^  f-  '^.CTJt-^ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


I 


;3 


r 


POEMS 


i( 


Eva/'  of  "The  Nation." 


FIRST    EDITION. 

Revised  and  Corkected  bt  the  Authoe. 


SAN     FRANCISCO: 
Published    and   Printed   by    P.    J.    Thomab, 

505  Clay  Street. 
1877. 


tercd  accordicg  to  Act  of  Conerces,  in  tho  year  1S7T,  by  V.  J.  Thomas, 
ia  th5  crs  'o  of  tho  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  'Washington. 


TO 

THE    MEMORY 


or 


JOHN  MITCHEL  AND  JOHN  MARTIN, 

"FELONS"  OF  '48, 
THESE     POEMS 

<Associa,tecl  -witli  tiio  causo  for  -wliicli  tliey  s\aflered.). 

Are  dedicated  by  their  friend  and  compatriot, 

EVA. 


705778 


PUBLISHER'S    PREFACE. 


rPHE  poems  contained  in  this  volume,  which  are  now 
J-  for  the  tlrst  time  published  in  a  collected  form,  were 
originally  contributed  to  the  pages  of  the  Dublin  Nation 
and  other  national  journals.  As  they  appeared  chiefly 
during  the  years  1846,  '47  and  '48,  with  the  exception  of 
those  few  which  were  written  in  another  country  and  under 
different  circumstances  at  a  later  period,  they  may  be 
regarded  as  portions  of  the  history  of  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  episodes  in  the  life  of  the  Irish  nation.  They 
relate  to  that  heroic  but  ill-fated  struggle  for  the  vindica- 
tion of  Ireland's  right  to  all  the  liberties  and  prerogatives 
of  a  free  country,  which  was  developed  during  these  years 
and  which  culminated  in  the  imprisonment  and  exile  of 
the  popular  leaders  and  in  the  disarmament  and  repression 
of  the  Irish  peasantry.  The  poems  vary  in  character,  in 
tone,  in  sentiment  ;  they  run  through  the  varied  scale  that 
separates  joy  from  sorrow.  In  that  they  resemble  the 
moods  and  dispositions  of  the  race  amid  which  they  were 
written  and  sung.  They  are,  in  short,  the  expression  of 
the  writer's  intense  sympathy  with  the  national  movement 
for  freedom,  the  natural  and  irrepressible  outcome  of  her 
hopes  and  griefs  as  called  forth  by  the  varying  fortunes  of 
her  country's  sacred  cause.     Although  well  nigh  the  life- 


\  I  PfBLiSHER  3    PREFACE. 

time  of  a  generation  has  passed  away  since  these  poems 
first  appeared,  it  has  been  thought  by  the  pubUsher  that 
they  cannot  have  lost  all  interest,  not  alone  for  the  Irish 
people  in  whose  behalf  they  were  penned,  but  for  all  those 
who  can  sympathize  with  a  down-trodden  race,  and  who 
feel  their  bosoms  animated  with  the  holy  love  of  liberty. 
.\n  Irish  poet  asks  : 

"Who  fears  to  speak  of  "JS? 
"Who  blushes  at  the  name  ? 
Wh' n  cowards  mock  the  jKitriot's  fate, 
"Who  hangs  his  head  for  shame  ?" 

And,  certainly,  if  it  be  craven  \o  blush  for  the  wild  and 
daring  "  rising  "  of  1798,  it  is  at  least  equal  unmanliness 
to  sneer  at  the  movement  of  1848.  It  failed,  of  course, 
for,  in  the  forlorn  situation  of  the  Irish  masses  at  that  time, 
success  was,  humanly  speaking,  impossible.  It  was  not 
iht^  first  time  in  history,  as  we  fear  it  will  not  be  the  last, 
when  the  mailed  hand  of  despotism  could  smite  to  the 
earth  a  struggling  people  and  perpetuate  a  tyranny.  From 
a  military  point  of  view,  therefore,  the  revolutionary  move- 
ment was  abortive — that  must  be  confessed  ;  but,  as  the 
protest  of  a  nation  against  alien  misgovernment,  as  a  proud 
declaration  of  unflinching  allegiance  to  the  cause  of  liberty, 
it  was  most  impressive  and  most  successful.  The  world 
will  long  admire  the  vigor  of  the  orators  ol"  '48,  the  com- 
mingled fire  and  pathos  of  the  poets  of  '48,  and  the  fidelity 
and  self-sacrifice  of  the  people's  leaders  ;  for  these  are  the 
tilings  that  can  redeem  a  "lost  cause  "  from  oblivion  and 
make  it  immortal.  Although  the  collection  is,  in  the 
main,  a  republication,  the  book  contains  many  pieces  of 


PUBLISHER  S    PREFACE.  Vll 

high  merit  which  were  never  before  printed,  and  which, 
the  publisher  feels  sure,  will  make  the  volume  still  more 
acceptable.  Indeed,  the  very  first  poem  in  the  collection, 
"  A  Chant  to  Our  Beloved  Dead,"'  is  a  new  one.  The 
poems  of  "Eva"  should  need  little  introduction  to 
men  of  Irish  blood,  either  here  or  in  the  old  land.  It 
is  a  grand  old  Celtic  boast  that  they  never  forget  those 
who  devote  the  heavenly  gift  of  genius  to  the  vindica- 
tion of  their  name  and  fame  or  to  the  regaining  of  iheir 
lost  independence;  and  the  publisher  has  every  confi- 
dence that  his  C04intrymen  still  cherish  grateful  and  affec- 
tionate remembrances  of  "  Eva's  "  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
their  fatherland.  He  is,  indeed,  satisfied  that  they  will 
hail  the  appearance  of  this  volume,  modest  and  unpreten- 
tious as  it  is,  with  a  cordial  greeting,  and  extend  to  it  a 
genuine  cead  milk  failthe.  He  believes  that,  under  God's 
divine  providence,  the  slavery  of  Ireland  cannot  be  perpe- 
tual; he  believes  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  cause 
sanctified  by  the  sacrifices  of  O'Brien,  Mitchel,  Martin  and 
Meagher,  and  hallowed  by  the  poetic  genius  of  Davis, 
Williams,  "  Eva,"  "  Speranza,"  and  so  many  others.  In 
the  hope  that  this  volume  may  serve  in  some  degree  to 
preserve  the  faith  in  Irish  freedom  he  presents  it  to  the 
public  and  to  his  fellow-countrymen,  praying  that  the  day 
may  soon  come  when,  as  God's  bright  sun  climbs  the  green 
hill-tops  of  Ireland,  it  will  light  up  the  homes  and  beam 
upon  the  altars  of  a  free  people. 


CHANT 

TO      OUR      BELOVED      DEAD. 
I. 

OYE  dead  !   ye  well-beloved  dead, 
Great  souls,  fond  hearts  that  once  were  linked  with 
mine, 
Athwart  the  gulf  that  yawns  between  us,  dread, 

I  fling  the  longings  that  invite  a  sign, 
A  faint,  faint  shadow  of  your  darling  presence— > 

A  plaintive  echo  of  your  voices  low, 
Soma  little  gleam,  some  whispered  word  that  lessens 
The  awful  silence  that  the  parted  know. 

II. 

O  ye  dead  !   ye  wild-lamented  dead, 

Who  draw  me  onward  by  the  links  of  pain 
To  that  strange,  neutral  gi-ound,  o'ershadowed 

Between  two  worlds  that  yet  ajoart  remain, 
Is  there  no  might  in  sorrow  wildly  yearning  ? 

Is  there  no  magic  in  the  strong  "  I  will  " — 
In  love  that,  ever  throbbing,  ever  btirning, 

Keeps  lonely  watch  upon  that  pathway  still  ? 


III. 


O  ye  dead  !   ye  silent,  shapeless  dead. 

Who  will  not — cannot  force  that  granite  wall, 

Behind  whose  shade,  impalpable  and  dread, 
Ye  hear  not,  see  not  those  who  wildly  call. 


10  LAMENT  FOR    TIIOMAS  DJ  VIS. 

The  heavy,  sullen  air  around  you  brooding 
Will  waft  no  sigh  or  murmur  to  yoiir  ears  ; 

The  changeless  ebon  darkness  round  you  flooding 
No  ray  can  pierce  from  those  sad  earthly  spheres. 

IV. 

0  ye  dead  !   ye  well-r'emembered  dead — 

Remembered  so  that  Death  can  never  change 
Th'  impassion'd  thoughts  to  you  that  once  were  wed. 

But  makes  them  ever  towards  you  darkly  range. 
For  me  your  eyes  can  ne'er  look  blank  or  hollow, 

Your  touch  can  chill  not,  nQi-  your  voices  awe; 
Along  that  mystic  jjath  I  fain  would  follow, 

Drawn  onward  by  a  secret  spirit  law. 


LAMENT    FOR    THOMAS    DAVIS. 

I. 

I    MOURN  thcG,  Thomas  Davis,  dark,  dark  and  wearily; 
Oh,  shut  the  light  from  out  mine  eyes,  for  I  cannot  bear  to  see; 
I  c  amot  look  upon  the  earth  and  you  no  longer  there : 
'Tis  now,  and  evermore  will  bo,  as  my  heart  is,  cold  and  bare. 
Thomas  Davis  !   Thomas  Davis  !  amtshla  Klfmre  machrec  ! 
My  heart,  my  heart  is  pouring  out  black,  bitter  tears  for  thee. 

ir. 

Oh,  how  can  I  believe  it?  it  can't  bo  as  they  say. 

That  all  the  gifts  so  near  to  Heaven  are  quenched  within  the  clay; 

It  cannot  be,  it  cannot  be,  that  all  the  noble  dower 

Of  Truth,  and  Love,  and  Genius  high,  on  this  earth  no  more  has 

power. 
Thomas  Davis  !   Thomas  Davis ! — is  that  a  phantom  name  — 
An  empty,  silent,  churchyard  word,  so  full  of  life  and  fame  ? 


LAMEST  FOR    THOMAS  DAVIS.  U 

III. 
Oh,  let  me  tliiuk  ujion  him  !    Are  all  the  thoughts  of  years, 
So  firm  and  bright  around  him  twined,  now  lor  ever  steeped  in 

tears  ? 
And  must  we  have  but  memories  of  all  that  ho  has  been, 
Like  Autumn's  dry  and  withered  leaves,  that  we  saw  so  fresh  and 

green? 
Thomas  Davis!  Thomas  Davis!  sure,  sure  it  is  not  friie. 
Oh,  who,  since  first  we  heard  your  name,  e'er  thought  of  Death 

and  you  ! 

IV. 

Bright  sparks  of  gold  are  dancing  upon  the  river's  breast. 
And  soft  and  bright  the  sky  appears  as  it  lies  in  gentle  rest. 
The  sun  is  slumbering  warm  and  fair  on  fields  so  still  and  green 
And  j)roudly  look  the  mountains  down  on  the  gentle,  smiling 

scene ; 
Nought   is   changing,  nought  is   changing;  the    soixnd  of  life 

goes  on. 
There  is  no  change,  there  is  no  change  ;  and,  sure,  he  can't  be 

gone  ! 

V. 

Ah,  woe  is  me,  on  this  sad  day  !    I  know  my  tears  are  true. 
Deep,  deep  within  the  change  that's  come,  'twas  well,  too  well 

I  knew. 
And  you — oh,  you,  mavourneen  oge ! — our  glory  and  our  trust, 
Oh,  who  could  ever  dream  such  might  would  crumble  into  dust  ? 
Can  W3  ever,  can  we  ever  mind  Love  or  Hope  again, 
When  brightest  Hope,  and  truest  Love,  no  more  to  us  remain? 

VI. 

I  see  the  hills  of  Ormond,  the  Slonnn's*  pleasant  shore: 
I  think  how  well  you  loved  their  sight,  and  you'll  look  on  them 
no  more  ! 

*  Shannon. 


12  THE  PA-rniOT  MOTHER. 

You  loved  them  -well,  mavoumeen,  every  stream  and  mountain 

blue  ! 
You  loved  them   in   j-our   bosom's   core,    oh,  and  won't  they 

mourn  for  you? 
"Won't  they  sorrow,  won't  they  soitow,  this  sad  and  woful  day, 
And  Thomas  Davis  lying  low,  within  the  darksome  clay  ! 

VII. 

And  will  your  voice,  oh,  never,  be  heard  where  it  hath  poured, 
Among  the  friends  so  fondly  loved,  the  free  and  fearless  word  ? 
And  won't  you  see  their  banners  wave,  and  hear  their  triamphs 

swell, 
"When  they  chase  the  foreign  foe  away  from  the  land  you  loved  so 

well  ? 
Oh,  the  caoine,  oh,  the  caoine,  will  mingle  with  the  tide 
Of  loud-resounding  triumph  when  we  think  of  him  who  died ! 

VIII. 

Oh,  why  am  I  still  able  to  pour  my  depth  of  woe  ? 
Oh,  why  am  I  not  lying  now  where  you  are  lying  low  ? 
Embalmed  in  all  yoiir  noble  deeds  and  thoughts  so  proud  and 

high. 
Above  your  grave  in  misery  we're  left  this  day  to  lie — 
As  the  green  moss,  as  the  green  moss,  from  off  the  tree  is  torn, 
Ho  you  were  taken  from  our  hearts,  and  we  are  left  forlorn! 


THE     PATRIOT     MOTHER. 

A    BALLAD    OF     '98, 

U  /"|OME,  tell  un  the  names  of  the  rebelly  crew 

\j  Who  lifted  the  pike  on  the  Curragh  with  you  ; 
Come,  tell  us  their  treason,  and  then  you'll  be  free. 
Or  right  quickly  you'll  swing  from  the  high  gallows  tree." 


THE  PATRIOT  MO  THE  U.  13 

I. 

"Alanna!  alannal*    the  shadow  of  shame 
Has  never  yet  fall'ii  iipon  one  of  your  name, 
And,  oh,  may  the  food  from  my  bosom  yon  drew 
In  your  veins  turn  to  poison  if  you  turn  untrue. 

II. 

"The  foul  words,  oh,  let  them  not  blacken  your  tongue, 
That  would  prove  to  your  friends  and  your  country  a  wrong, 
Or  the  curse  of  a  mother,  so  bitter  and  dread. 
With  the  wrath  of  the  Lord — may  they  fall  on  your  head  ! 

III. 

"  I  have  no  one  but  you  in  the  whole  world  wide, 

Yet,  fabc  to  your  pledge,  you'd  ne'er  stand  at  my  side  ; 

If  a  traitor  you  lived,  j^ou'd  be  farther  away 

From  my  heart,  than  if  true,  you  were  wrapped  in  the  clay. 

IV. 

"  Oh,  deeper  and  darker  the  mourning  would  be 
For  your  falsehood  so  base,  than  your  death,  proud  and  free- 
Dearer,  far  dearer  than  ever  to  me. 
My  darling,  you'll  be  on  the  brave  gallows  tree. 


"  'Tis  holy,  agra,  from  the  bravest  and  best — 

Go  !   go  !   from  my  heart,  and  be  joii:ed  with  the  rest ; 

Alamia  machree  !   0  alanna  machree.'\ 

Sure  a  '  stag't  and  a  traitor  you  never  will  be." 

VI. 

There's  no  look  of  a  traitor  upon  the  young  brow 
That's  raised  to  the  tempters  so  haughtily  now  ; 
No  traitor  e'er  held  up  the  firm  head  so  high  — 
No  traitor  e'er  showed  such  a  proud,  flashing  eye. 

*  My  child  !  my  child  I    t  Child  o£  my  heart,     t  An  informer. 


14  o  LOTALTT. 

Til. 

On  the  bigh  gallows  tree  !    on  the  brave  gallows  tree, 
"Where  smiled  leaves  and  blossoms,  his  sad  doom  met  he  I 
But  it  never  bore  blossom  so  pnre  or  so  fair 
As  the  heart  of  the  martyr  who  hangs  from  it  there  ! 


LOYALTY. 

I. 

I'LL  not  leave  old  Ireland,  though  fall'n  she  may  be; 
I'll  not  leave  old  Ireland  until  she  is  free. 
Though  light  be  her  hope,  and  though  dark  be  her  fear, 
I  know  in  my  heart  that  her  dawning  is  near. 

II. 

The  wild  geese  are  going,  the  wild  geese  are  gone; 
The  gay  ships  are  dancing  to  bear  them  along; 
There's  waiiing  behind  them  and  sorrow  before — • 
They'll  never  again  see  their  own  island  shore  ! 

iir. 

The  west  winds  are  blowing  across  the  wild  main, 
The  west  winds  ai'c  beck'ning  to  freedom  and  gain; 
But  your  tears  and  your  mourning  are  dearer  to  me: 
My  place  is  beside  you,  acuslila  machree  1 

IV. 

Would  I  fly  to  the  sunshine,  and  you  in  the  shadp? 
Would  I  leave  the  green  bosom  that  moulded  and  made  ? 
Is  it  while  you  were  mourning — i,->  it  while  you  were  low— 
Oh,  my  tears  they  are  falling:  you  know  I  won't  go  ! 


To  strive  and  to  struggle,  to  live  or  to  die. 
My  place  is  beside  you  if  all  were  to  fly-r- 
To  pity  and  cherish,  to  help  and  defend, 
Through  labor  and  sorrow  to  wait  for  the  end. 


TO   THOMAS  FRAXCIS  MEAGUER.  15 


TO    THOMAS    FRANCIS    MEAGHER, 

I. 

THE  ancient  towers  of  the  land, 
The  mountains  blue  and  hoary, 
The  murmuring  rivers,  bright  and  bland, 

Seem  lit  with  newer  glory. 
They  look  on  thee,  they  smile  on  thee; 

Young  patriot,  bend  thee  lowly — 
A  spirit  deep  of  prophecy 

Breathes  o'er  thee,  true  and  holy! 

II. 

Oh,  fold  thy  hands  and  bend  thy  brow, 

For  solemn  words  are  spoken — 
The  glorious  way  before  thee  now 

Is  yet  through  bonds  unbroken. 
Go!  strong  in  warrior's  heart  of  fire, 

And  tongue  of  Coradh's*  power. 
Nor  force  of  wiles  nor  darkest  ire 

May  triumph  o'er  that  dower! 


OUR     COURSE 


I. 

WE  turn  to  ye,  O  preachers  of  a  nation's  solemn  vow. 
With  strength  unfaiUng  f oi;  the  path  that  we  must  tread  in 
now. 
Men  of  the  Eath  of  MuUaghmast,  of  Tara's  sacred  hill. 
Men  of  the  dungeon  and  the  gyves,  are  ye  those  strong  men  still  ? 


*The  war  musicians  of  ancient  Ireland  were  called  Coradhs. 


16  OUR  COURSE. 

II. 
Oh,  meet  for  us  to  rest  upon  tlae  stern-recorded  gage 
Of  generous  and  bounding  youth  and  wisdom-tempered  age, 
Whose  words  gleam  out  like  fiery  stars  upon  the  broad,  bright 

sky, 
Before  the  gaze  of  all  the  world,  as  shining  and  as  high. 

III. 
"We  falter  not  upon  the  way  that  nobly  ye  have  shown ; 
"No  failing,  now,  within  our  souls  until  we  gi"asp  our  own  !" 
That  oath! — 'tis  writ! — where'er  we  turn  it  fills  the  very  air: 
We  place  our  hands  upon  our  hearts,  and  feel  'tis  written  there  ! 

IV. 

We  know  the  weapons  of  our  foe,  the  taunt,  the  doubt,  the  lie. 
The  friendly  sneer,  the  audacious  threat,  the  blight  of  treachery. 
But  through  the  dungeon,  field  or  grave  still  onward  is  our  way — 
Still  journeying  through  the  gloom  of  night,  as  in  the  blaze  of 
day! 


That  path  for  us  is  graven  deep,  'tis  marked  by  many  a  wrong. 
Is  heralded  by  patriots  dear  in  many  a  martyred  throng. 
Is  it  not  traced  by  true  men's  steel,  and  lighted  by  their  words  ? 
Shall  it  be  barred  against  our  march  by  all  those  threatening 
hordes  ? 

VI. 

No!  did  we  pause  or  turn  aside  from  that  we're  sworn  to  do, 
We  well  might  blush  to  look  upon  the  Heaven  before  our  view: 
Not  loud  enough  the  thunder  peal,  not  bright  enough  the  sun, 
To  tell  the  listening  world  our  shame,  if  this  foul  deed  were  done ! 


DO  WN,  BRn\lNNlA  I  17 


DOWN,     BRITANNIA! 

I. 

DOWN,  Britannia !  brigand ,  do-wTi ! 
No  more  to  rule  with  sceptred  hand  ; 
Truth  raises  o'er  thy  throne  and  crown 

Her  exorcising  wand. 
I  see  "  the  -«Titing  on  the  wall," 
The  proud,  the  thrice-accursed  shall  fall — 
Down,  Britannia,  down! 

II. 

Jubilate!— rings  the  ciy 

Exialtingly  from  pole  to  pole, 
With  bended  knee  and  glistening  eye 

Glad  shouts  of  triumph  roll. 
lo  pman — raise  the  song  : 
From  sea  to  shore  it  sweeps  along — 
Down,  Britannia,  down  ! 

III. 

For  cold  deceit,  through  long,  long  years, 
For  iron  rule  with  blood-stained  sword, 

For  brave  men's  lives,  for  woman's  tears. 
For  basely-broken  word, 

There  comes  a  loud  exulting  voice, 

Bidding  the  long-oppressed  rejoice — 

Down,  Britannia,  down ! 

rv. 

The  golden  sands  of  Indian  clime, 
The  China  towers  of  old  Pekin 

Have  seen  the  desolating  print 
Of  thy  dark  hoof  of  sin ; 


18  DO  WN,  BRITANNIA  ! 

And,  ground  and  trampled  to  the  death, 
Their  children  cry  with  Litest  breath — 
Down,  Britannia,  down  ! 


Still  wailing  at  the  Eternal  gate, 

See  myriad  blood-stained  sceptres  stand; 
They  cry  aloud  through  night  and  day 

Against  thy  robber  hand: 
For  "  Vengeance,  vengeance,  dark  and  dire, 
0  Lord  of  glory,  show  thine  ire  ! — 

Down,  Britannia,  down!" 

VI. 

Tes,  down,  if  Heaven  will  aid  the  brave, 
If  life  and  strength  have  but  this  aim, 

Accounting  Ijlood  and  toil  as  nought 
So  thou  art  brought  to  shame. 

God  grant  to  us  the  final  blow. 

Unto  the  dust  to  strike  thee  low — 

Down,  Britannia,  down ! 

VII. 

For  this  have  heroes  fought  and  bled, 
For  this  have  pined  in  exile  lone; 

For  this  the  gallows  bore  its  fruit, 
And  yet  it  was  not  won. 

But,  oh,   'tis  worth  a  struggle  yet. 

Though  every  hearth  with  blood  were  wet — 
Down,  Britannia,  down ! 

VIII. 

When  banded  are  the  good  and  true. 
We  know,  at  least,  the  word  is  said; 

We  march  along  the  glorious  way, 
By  Heavenly  teaching  led. 

It  comes  at  last,  the  wished-for  hour. 
For  all  to  cry  with  prophet  power — 

Down,  Britannia,  down  ! 


CHARTIST  ADDRESS.  19 


CHARTIST      ADDTvESS. 


T)EAri,  a  bravo  heart,  my  brothers  all- 
)  The  hearts  of  EngUshmen ; 
Strive  well  for  that  old  land  of  j'ours, 

And  make  it  free  again. 
The  tramp  of  Freedom  loud  resounds 

Through  all  the  list'ning  world, 
And  now  she's  coming  o'or  the  sea, 
AVilh  her  brave  flag  unfurled  ! 


II.- 

The  People's  cause  is  one  alono 

Through  all  the  world  wide ; 
By  foreign  name,  or  foreign  tongue. 

That  cause  you  can't  divide  ! 
Two  races  only  do  I  see 

Upon  this  globe  of  ours  : 
The  cheated  sons  of  woe  and  toil, 

The  juggling  "higher  powers  !" 

m. 

One  master  crushes  both  alike, 

The  Saxon  and  the  Celt — 
For  all  the  pomp  of  throne  and  state 

Our  bone  and  substance  melt. 
Then,  hand  in  hand,  we'll  face  the  foe, 

And  grapple  with  the  wrong, 
And  show  the  tyrant  and  the  slave 

A  people's  will  is  strong  ! 


20  HYMN  OF   THE  SWORD. 


lY. 


They  dare  not  palter  with  the  stern, 

Nor  stnigglc  wilh  the  true; 
Our  hearts  shall  guard  the  iDiecions  green, 

And  yours  the  red  and  blue. 
Close  up,  close  up  !  in  ranks  of  steel — ■ 

The  people's  cause — hurrah  ! 
Oppressors  of  your  fellow-men, 

We  wait  not  for  a  day  ! 


By  the  high  might  of  Truth  and  Eight, 
More  potent  than  the  storm ; 

By  the  great  vow,  all  reckless  now. 
Of  reddest  war's  alarm — 

We'll  have  our  own  despite  them  all. 
Or  Commons,  Queen  or  Lords  ; 

And  we'll  read  our  Charter  by  the  light 
Of  ten  thousand  flashing  swords  ! 


HYMN    OF    THE    SWORD. 


CHEBUB  of  snowy  wing. 
Who  armed  thy  strong  right  hand 
With  tliat  red  lightning  steel 
Before  the  Heavenly  land  ? 
Who  gave  to  thee  the  sword. 
The  dark-defending  sword, 
Before  the  gate  to  stand  ? 


HYMN  OF   THE  SWORD.  21 

II. 

It  flaslied  in  awful  might, 

The  fieiy,  golden  sword — 
Death-dealing,  sacred  steel, 

The  Viceroy  of  the  Lord  ! 
No  mighty  word  he  spoke, 

But  all  his  wrath  awoke 
In  the  kingly-flaming  sword  ? 

III. 

Give  us  that  sword,  O  God  ! — 

Give  us  that  fiery  sword  ! 
As  holy  things  as  Eden's  vales 

Have  we  for  thee  to  guard  : 
Home,  Country,  Honor,  Faith, 

To  guard  from  taint  and  scath — ■ 
Give  us  that  fiery  sword  ! 

IV. 

"Where  is  our  sword,  0  God  ? 

Where  is  our  flaming  steel. 
To  make  the  desecrating  foe 

Before  Thy  footstool  reel  ? 
"Where  is  our  guardian  sword, 

Before  the  gate  to  stand, 
A  free  and  holy  land. 

To  sentinel  for  Thee  ? 

V. 

"We  stand  before  Thee  now, 

Before  Thy  throne  adored  ; 
Give  us  that  sacred  trust, 

Give  us  that  watch  and  ward- 
Untiring  guardians  we. 

Before  Thine  eye  shall  be. 
Armed  with  Thy  fiery  sword  ! 


22  THE  LORDS  OF   THE  SOIL. 


THE    LORDS    OF    THE    SOIL. 

I. 

YE  Gentlemen  of  Ireland,  ■wh.o  stand  upon  the  sod 
Where  oncayoui"  gallant  ancestors  in  pride  and  freedom  trod  ! 
H.ivc  yo  no  thouglit  or  feeling  li'-gli  that  marked  your  noble  race  ? 
In  word,  or  look,  or  deed  may  -svc  that  regal  lineage  trace  ? 

II. 

Upon  each  hill  above  yc,  within  each  sunny  vale, 

Their  tones  of  triumph  swelled  rdoud,  their  banners  kissed  the 

galo; 
Amongst   the   lieath-beds,    bronzed   with   light,    where   dashing 

torrents  ran, 
Has  rung  the  war-cry,  stern  and  loud,  of  many  a  mountain  clan. 

HI. 

In  broad  lar-Conachl 's  region,  where  rise  the  Arran  isles, 
Where,  heaving  up   its   bosom    strong,  the   fair   Lough   Corrib 

smiles  ; 
Where  towers  Ben  Nepliin,  mighty,  a  lord  above  the  sea. 
There  some  have  ruled  with  sceptred  hand  whose  name  abides 

with  ye. 

IV. 

Upon  Camailte's  mountain,  whoso  head  is  white  with  years, 
What  thrilling  cries  have  mingled  with  the  clashing  of  the  spears  ! 
On  evei-y  si)ot  of  Irish  ground  bright  memories  start  and  throng. 
That  as  a  golden  treasure  still  to  Irish  hearts  belong  ! 

V. 

The  broad  lands  of  your  fathers  still  stretch  before  you  Ihere, 
Your  homes  are  on  that  hallow'd  ground,  but  not  as  thdr  homes 

were ; 
The  emgrald  fields  you  call  your  own,  at  what  a  j^rice  you  hold  ! 
Each  free-born  thought  and  word  of  yours  unto  your  masters 

sold ! 


THE  FALLEN  QUEEN.  23 


TI. 


O  Pariahs  of  Europe  !    0  apes  of  British  rule ! 

Bass  mixture  of  the  selfisii  knave  and  of  the  piteoiis  fool ! 

Go,  stand  before  your  haughty  lords,  and  cringe  and  fawn  and 

wait 
The  honor  of  a  nod  that  tells  the  meanness  of  your  state  ! 

VII. 

Oh!  ye  are  useful  weapons  of  tyrants  and  of  knaves, 
To  strike  into  that  coimtry 's  heait  where  rest  your  fathers'  graves ! 
Around  you  breaks  a  bitter  wail,  Avith  wrath  and  anguish  fraught : 
"Like  weight  of  mountains  on  your  heads  be  all  the  ills  you've 
wrought  !" 


THE    FALLEN    QUEEN. 
I. 

I  MOURN  within  my  palace  hall. 
Amid  the  ruin  and  wreck; 
No  royal  trappings  round  me  fall, 

Nor  gems  my  forehead  deck. 
The  golden  sceplre  now  is  felled  ; 

And  bowed  the  haughty  mien 
Of  her  who  once  in  glory  held 
The  rank  of  rightful  queen. 

n. 

My  children  wail  with  bitter  tears 
The  grief  that  sears  my  brow. 

And  I'm  alone  amid  their  fears, 
"With  none  to  aid  me  now. 


ii  THE  FALLEN  QUEEN. 

My  head  is  covered  with  the  dust, 
And  soiled  my  robes  of  green; 

I  am  a  woman  wronged  and  lost, 
But  not  the  less  a  queen. 

ni. 

For  traitor  Might  may  trample  down 

Whate'er  is  pure  and  true; 
Bat  Right  still  wears  her  golden  crown, 

And  claims  her  glorious  due. 
So  cv'n  amid  their  cruel  power 

I  still  can  stand  serene. 
And  hold  undimmed  the  sacred  dower 

Of  one,  a  true-born  queen. 

IV. 

For  God  hath  given  to  me  a  place. 

And  set  on  me  a  sign 
That  mortal  hand  can  ne'er  deface, 

Nor  I  can  ne'er  resign. 
And  though  above  the  land  and  wave 

The  spoiler  strong  is  seen, 
He's  not  the  less  a  robber  knave. 

Nor  I  the  less  a  queen. 


I  once  had  stores  at  my  command, 

Rich  blessings  from  above  ; 
My  subjects  all  a  faithful  band 

To  guard  me  with  their  love. 
Alasl  alas!  their  life-blood  dyes 

Those  faded  robes  of  green, 
And  nought  remains  but  tears  and  sighs 

For  me,  theu-  fallen  queen ! 


NATIONAL  MARCH.  2S 


NATIONAL      MARCH 


"l/rEN  of  the  soil !  good  men  and  true, 
.  .ij.  Quick  be  }■  our  march  the  dark  way  through. 
Proud  is  the  moment  when  wrongs  are  redrest, 
Lying  for  ages  a  load  on  the  breast. 
Ou  !  on  !  through  doubt  and  through  danger, 
On,  over  the  head  of  the  stranger — 
Forward,  and  carry  the  day ! 


What  is  before  ?  the  gibbet  or  sword — 

Patriot  men,  do  ye  seek  a  reward  ? 

On !  on  every  step  there  is  fame  ; 

Back  !  and  be  lost  in  th'  abysm  of  shame. 

On  !  on  !  'tis  the  day  of  salvation  ; 

On  !  ou  !  'tis  the  hour  for  a  nation — 

Forward  !  the  struggle  is  come  ! 

in. 

March  !  march  !  men  of  the  soil, 
Foi'ce,  shall  it  swerve  ye,  or  treachery  foil  ? 
Yours  is  to  sweep  every  wrong  from  its  stand, 
Or  leave  not  a  trace  of  yourselves  in  the  land. 
On  !  on  !  no  fear  or  no  failing, 
Listen  no  more  to  the  cold  or  the  quailing — 
Forward !  the  day  is  your  own ! 


46  THE  GATHERING. 


THE      GATHERING. 

COME  forth  !    Is  it  true  that  ye  cannot  awaken  ? 
Come  forth,  ere  this  hoiu-  from  our  vengeance  be  taken ! 
To  blot  out  the  darkness  of  numberless  ages, 
To  brighten  the  future  for  history's  pages  ; 
Come  forth  in  your  wrath,  in  your  sorrow  and  madness, 
As  swift  as  the  torrents  leap  out  in  their  gladness  ; 
For  wi'ongs  to  avenge,  and  for  rights  to  recover, 
Come  on,  with  the  ardor  and  hope  of  a  lover  ! 
Come  forth,  with  the  thoughts  that  are  burning  within  you  ; 
Let  glory  and  honor  and  memory  win  you. 
Of  many  a  hope  and  a  joy  they've  bereft  you. 
But  strength  for  the  contest  still,  still  it  is  left  you. 
Come  on,  by  the  sorrows  that  wildly  oppress  you  ; 
By  the  hope  of  that  triumph  that  surely  will  bless  you  ! 
By  the  past  driven  forth,  by  the  future  invited. 
There's  a  voice  and  a  sign  that  may  never  be  slighted  ! 
•They  come,  the  brave  sons  of  the  Emerald  Mother, 
They  come  to  the  struggle,  sire,  cUavan*  and  brother  ! 
From  the  cUfif  and  the  mountain  I  see  them  down  pouring, 
Their  war-cry  the  voice  of  the  tempest  outroaring. 
With  proud  eyes  to  dare  ev'n  the  lightning  and  thunder, 
The  ranks  of  the  foemcn  all  breaking  asunder. 
Like  rivers  that  sound  in  their  silvery  laughter. 
With  wave  upon  wave  dashing  after  and  after  ! 
For,  oh  !  it  is  mirthful  to  meet  thus  together. 
With  pike  in  the  hand  and  with  foot  on  the  heather; 
To  think  of  the  wrong,  as  you  grasp  with  the  wronger. 
And  feel  the  deep  soul  growing  stronger  and  stronger  ; 
And  think  that  one  blow  will,  for  ever  and  ever, 
Our  nation  and  name  from  all  tyranny  sever. 
Oh,  day  of  all  days  !  when  the  old  soil,  awoken, 
Will  trample  the  chains  she  has  fearlessly  broken  ! 

•  AnQl'iCt.—YricQdi  or  relative. 


GOD  SAVE   THE  PEOPLE.  27 


GOD      SAVE      THE      PEOPLE. 


GOD  save  the  People  all ! 
While  thrones  and  sceptres  round  them  fall, 
Shout  aloud  the  sacred  call, 

God  save  the  People  ! 

n. 

Through  cannon's  roar,  and  flash  of  steel, 
As  laws  and  systems  rock  and  reel. 
Through  strife  that  blood,  perchance,  must  seal, 
God  save  the  People  ! 

m. 

God  save  those  who  solely  can 
Giaard  the  soil  from  shame  and  ban  ;    • 
Then  be  the  prayer  of  every  man, 

God  save  the  People ! 

IV. 

From  misty  dreams,  from  words  that  glow 
Above  the  void  that  lies  below. 
From  this  their  ancient  curse  and  woe, 
God  save  the  People  ! 

V. 

From  evil  thought  to  mar  the  cause, 
From  falsehood  to  The  Eternal's  laws, 
From  headlong  rush  or  coward  pause, 
God  save  the  People  ! 


38  TBE  REBEL'S  SERMON— A  STREET  BALLAD. 

YI. 

From  knaves  and  fools  -who  seek  to  sway. 
When  7nen  alone  should  lead  the  way, 
(Upon  the  waves  the  spotless  spray) — 
God  save  the  People  ! 

VII. 

The  snowy  wings  are  flutteriug  by, 

Of  angel  opportunity  !  ' 

Let  her  not  mount  unto  the  sky — 

God  save  the  People  ! 


THE   REBEL'S    SERMON— A    STREET    BALLAD. 

I. 

MY  brothers,  all,  who  hear  me  now, 
Give  ear  to  what  I  say  ; 
The  words  are  solemn  that  I  speak 

On  this,  my  dying  day  : 
For  Ireland's  love,  for  England's  hate, 

I  swore  a  solemn  vow. 
And  if  I  swore  it  once  before, 
I'd  swear  it  ten  times  now  ! 
For  Ireland  !  for  Ireland  ! 
Upon  this  drop  I  stand  ; 
For  Ireland,  for  Ireland, 
My  own  native  land  ! 

II. 

Thrice  blacker  be  the  face  of  death, 

Thrice  brighter  be  the  sky  ! 
And  yet,  for  such  a  cause  as  this, 

I'm  well  content  to  die  ! 


THE  REBEL'S  SERMON— A  STREET  BALLAD.  20 

I  never  knew  what  'twas  to  fear, 

And  still  I  do  not  know  ; 
And  for  the  wrongs  that  seared  my  heart 
I  strove  to  deal  a  blow. 

You'll  follow,  you'll  follow. 

The  path  I  went  before, 
Like  brave  men,  to  save,  men, 
Their  old  island  shore  ! 

ni. 

I  did  the  duty  of  a  man  ; 
I  care  for  life  no  move  ; 
If  death  will  bring  the  cause  some  good. 

Its  stroke  I  don't  deplore. 
If  one  more  throb  of  stern  resolve 

It  raise  in  any  breast, 
If  one  more  pulse  of  bitter  hate 
'Gainst  England's  robber  crest — 
'Tis  welcome  !  'tis  welcome. 

Eight  merrily  to  me  ; 
Victorious,  and  glorious 
The  last  hour  1  see  ! 

IV. 

And  now  the  word  I'd  leave  behind 
Is  Vengeance  !  Vengeance  !  still. 
O'er  every  plain  I'd  ring  it  out. 

On  every  lofty  hill. 
Who  cares  a  straw  for  life  and  limb 

Deserves  not  to  be  free  ; 
Who  thinks  of  caution  or  of  fear 
Will  frighten  liberty. 

Still  daring,  uncaring. 

For  all  the  might  of  man. 
There  is  no  other  way,  my  boys, 
To  carry  out  your  plan  ! 


30  SILKEN   THOMAS. 


SILKEN      THO^IAS. 

■WEITTEN  IN  1848,   FOn  THOMAS  FKANCI3  MEAGHEB. 


HO  !  speed  along,  my  trusty  men,  and  proud  yoiir  gathering  be, 
For  one  who  loves  the  dear  old  land  stands  firm  in  front  of  ye. 
In  glowing  youth,  in  stainless  truth,  he  stands  the  foremost 

there, 
With  warrior's  sword  and  warrior's  heart,  prepared  to  do  and 
dare. 

II. 

His  white  plume  tosses  to  the  wind  like  foam  upon  the  sea. 
And  his  gallant  palfrey  bears  him  on  with  step  so  proud  and  free. 
He  shines  before  our  dazzled  eyes  a  glory  and  a  joy, 
Our  young,  brave  Silken  Thomas,  that  brave  and  princely  boy ! 


m. 

A  leader  in  the  land  he  looks  decked  in  a  robe  of  green, 
The  flashing  gems  and  yellow  gold  beseem  the  royal  mien  ; 
Biit  gems  and  gold  and  silken  sheen  before  his  glance  are  dim  ; 
From  these  he  borrows  nought  of  grace,  'tis  they  have  all  from 
him. 

IV. 

Though  proud  the  noble  name  he  bears,  yet  more  for  his  renown 
He  comes,   the   Champion   of  the   Eight,  'gainst  coronet  and 

crown — 
I  ween  no  man  e'er  looked  more  grand  than  'mid  the  clashing 

spears. 
And  the  loud,  exulting  welcome  of  those  fearless  mountaineers. 


TO   THE  MAGNATES   OF  IRELAND.  31 

V. 

From  hill,  and  glen,  and  spreading  plain,  such  triumph  never 
rung 

As  greets  the  wild  war-music  poured  from  our  young  chieftain's 
tongue_ — 

"  We'll  follow  you  through  life  or  death— we'll  follow  to  the  last— 

"The  word  !  —the  word  !— we  want  no  more  ;  'twill  be  the  trum- 
pet's blast !" 

VI. 

The  banners  wave,  the  clarions  peal ;  now  comes  the  nish  and 

reel, 
The  booming  of  the  deadly  gun,  the  glancing  of  the  steel  ; 
And  there,  within  the  foremost  ranks,  like  to  a  shooting  star. 
Our  Silken  Thomas  may  be  seen,  all  glorious  from  afar  ! 


TO     THE     MAGNATES     OF      IRELAND. 

1. 

I  LOVE  not  vengeance,  men  of  gore, 
By  word,  or  deed,  or  sword  ; 
But,  sooth  to  say,  I  do  adore 

The  Justice  of  the  Lord  ! 
And,  watching  now  the  awful  doom 

Fast  gathering  o'er  your  path, 
I  shudder,  but  I  do  not  mourn 
The  fearful  "day  of  wrath." 

n. 

I  do  not  mourn  your  crumbling  walls. 

Your  lost  ancestral  fame, 
The  loathing  or  the  scorn  that  falls 

Upon  your  guilt  and  shame. 


83  TO    THE  MAGNATES   OF  IRELAND. 

For  years  on  years  the  web  you  wrought 
That  now,  to-day,  you  wear — 

The  clinging  robe  ^^'ith  poison  fraught, 
And  torture,  and  despair. 


in. 

There  is  no  mercy — none,  oh,  none  ! 

How  many  a  voice  in  vain 
Hath  prayed  to  ye,  in  seraph  tone, 

That  nevermore  will  deign  ! 
There  is  an  hour  that  surely  comes 

To  stiff-necked,  ceaseless  crime, 
When  Hell's  breath  withers  Mercy — Love, 

And  reigns  alone,  sublime. 


r7. 

That  hour  is  come  !    Ye  stand  arraigned 

Before  the  listening  world — 
Before  that  God,  at  whose  command 

Ye  have  defiance  hurled : 
For  stony  heai-ts,  for  robber  hands, 

?or  tears  and  gi-oans  and  blood. 
And  all  the  horde  of  stinging  sins 

That  made  this  land  their  food. 


In  vain  swelled  out  the  teeming  breast 

Of  this  our  golden  soil ; 
'Twas  but  for  your  fell  power  to  blast- 

Your  blackened  hands  to  spoil. 
In  vain  the  patriot's  voice  was  heard  ; 

Ye  started  at  the  sound, 
And  then,  slipped  from  the  tightened  leash. 

Ye  played  the  baiting  hound. 


THE  OATH  OF  ALLEGIANCE.  33 

Now,  'twixt  two  burning  fires  ye  stand, 

Your  victims  and  your  lords, 
The  wailing  curses  of  the  land, 

And  "law's  "  remorseless  hordes. 
•  Yet,  in  that  awful  labyrinth 

What  instinct  still  is  strong  ? 
With  life's  last  throes,  waio  the  close, 

Still  clinging  to  the  wrong  ! 

VII. 

By  blackened  roof-tree,  fireless  hearth, 

By  all  that  ye  have  crost. 
The  word  is  writ  on  sky  and  earth. 

Your  game  is  played — and  lost ! 
And  though  I  may  not  vengeance  love, 

By  word,  or  deed,  or  sword, 
Yet  still  I  ever  must  adore 

The  Justice  of  the  Lord  ! 


THE    OATH     OF    ALLEGIANCE. 

GOOD  men,  true  men,  stand  ye  forth  ! 
East  and  west,  and  south  and  north, 
Eaise  the  chorus  deep  and  loud, 
"Life  and  limb  to  thee  are  vowed, 

Erin  !" 

Royal  mistress,  sad  and  pale, 
Some  with  tears  thy  fate  bewail ; 
Men  have  sterner  work  to  do  : 
They  must  scorn  the  wiristhru* — 

Scorn  it  ! 

*The  Lament. 


Si  CHANT  OF   THE  IRISH  MINSTREL. 

Voiceless  is  the  brave  man's  grief. 
Dark  Lis  vow  and  stern  and  brief, 
Strong  liis  soul  to  work  or  wait, 
Marching  still  through  love  or  hate, 

Onward  ! 

While  one  weapon  yet  remains, 
Strike,  despite  all  ills  or  pains  ; 
While  at  hand  there  lies  one  task. 
Seek  not  the  future  to  unmask — 

Seek  not ! 

Like  a  rainbow  in  the  night, 
Hope  still  arches  o'er  the  right ; 
From  the  depths  the  fount  shall  burst, 
Soon  to  slake  pur  weary  thirst, 

Bi-others ! 

Men  of  Irish  blood  and  bone  ! 
Will  ye  not  allegiance  own 
To  the  Lady  of  the  Green, 
To  our  true  and  lawful  Queen  ? 

Erin  ! 

Yes  !  they  come,  exulting,  forth, 
East  and  west,  and  south  and  n»orth; 
By  the  blessed  book  and  sign. 
Firm  and  faithful,  they  are  thine, 

Erin! 


CHANT  OF  THE  IRISH  MINSTREL. 

I. 

InEAR  cold  voices  saying  that  she,  my  Queen,  is  dead. 
And  those  sad  chords  may  nevermore  their  tones  of  music  shed; 
That  I,  who  wildly  loved  her,  must  weep  in  mute  despair: 
Ah,  they  know  not  how  true  love  will  cling,  though  bhght  and 
death  be  there ! 


CHANT  OF   THE  IRISH  UINSTEEL.  36 

II. 

I  have  no  joy  or  triumpli  to  swell  ni)'-  minstrel  lay, 
I  have  no  hope  to  cheer  me  on  the  dark  and  lonely  way  ; 
Bnt  in  this  feeble  soul  there's  still  a  might  they  dream  not  of, 
While  living  springs  are  in  my  breast  of  deep,  unswerving  Love. 


m. 

Yes,  pale  one,  in  thy  sorrow  !  yes,  wronged  one,  in  thy  pain  ! 
This  heart  has  still  a  beat  for  thee,  this  trembling  hand  a  strain  ; 
They  cannot  steal  the  golden  stores  the  past  has  left  to  me, 
Or  mate  me  shrink  with  broken  faith,  asihore  machree,  from  thee  ! 


IV. 

Oh,  hear,  my  loved  one,  hear  me  !    'tis  no  cold  pulse  meets  your 

own. 
Its  burning  throb  would  warm  to  life,  an'  thou  weri  changed  to 

stone. 
I'll  call  the  color  to  thy  cheek,  the  light  into  thine  eye — 
I  know,  at  least,  if  thou  art  dead,  viy  love  can  never  die  ! 


'Twotild  make  the  air  arouiid  thee  warm  with  breath  of  living 

flame  ; 
In  life  or  death,  or  joy  or  woe,  'twill  cling  to  thee  the  same  : 
No,  never  in  the  gladdest  hour,  when  thou  wert proud  and  strong, 
Was  deeper  worship  poured  than  now,  in  this  low  mourning 

song  ! 

VI. 

I  knelt  before  you  long  ago,  when  a  crown  was  on  your  brow, 
I  loved  you  with  a  fervent  love — I  love  you  firmer  now  ; 
And  that  which  makes  the  ivy  green  around  the  mouldering  tree, 
Will  make  my  voice  all  tuneful  still,  asthore  machree,  for  thee  ! 


M  DARE  IT. 


DARE     IT. 

I. 

THIS  is  the  honr  of  strife, 
Dare  it  ! 
With  vast  results  'tis  rife, 

Dare  it ! 
Stand  forward  in  the  breach  ; 
Let  sturdy  action  preach, 
Nor  cant  presume  to  teach — 

Beware  it ! 

II. 

Theory  is,   "  All  is  lost  "  ! 

Dare  it ! 
Whate'er  the  struggle  cost, 

Dare  it ! 
Submit  not  to  a  cheat  ; 
For  us  there's  no  defeat, 
While  true  hearts  round  us  beat — 

We  swear  it  ! 
III. 

The  past,  with  all  its  woe, 

Dare  it ! 

The  present,  weak  and  slow. 

Dare  it ! 

The  future  as  it  may — 

Go  bolJly  on  your  way. 

To  win  the  victor's  bay, 

And  wear  it  1 

rv. 

I  hear  the  strong  man  say — 

"  Dare  it ! 
"  If  thou  wouldst  gain  the  day, 

"Dare  it! 


THE  MURDERER.  87 

"  1  -wrench  from  Fortune's  hand 
"  The  dark  and  threatening  brand 
"  To  serve,  \vh6n  I  command, 

"  Nor  spare  it !" 

V. 

While  tyrant  thrall  remains, 

Dare  it ! 
Despite  all  ills  and  pains, 

Dare  it  ! 
Sown  deep  by  Pen  and  tongue 
Be  "disaffection"  strong — ■ 
That  struggle,  sad  and  long. 

Oh,  bear  it ! 

TI. 

By  God's  good  help  and  strength, 

Dare  it  ! 
With  all  thy  soul  at  length, 

Dare  it  ! 
Eecast  the  broken  plan — 
Stand  forward  to  a  man, 
Ab  though  you'd  just  began — 

Oh,  swear  it  ! 


THE  MURDERER.  ' 

THE  day  it  was,  and  who  saw  the  sign 
Of  that  now  biirned  on  this  brow  of  mine  ? 
When  I  faced  the  wide  world  with  a  fearless  eye 
That  was  open  and  true  as  the  blessed  sky  ; 
And  sorrow  and  trouble,  and  sin  and  shame 
Were  far  away  from  our  honest  name. 


38  TlIE   MURDERER. 

'Tis  a  terrible  hour  when  the  i^itchy  gloom 
Grows  dark  and  dark  as  the  j'awuiug  tomb; 
When,  with  bursting  heart  and  straining  eye, 
For  hope  or  for  help  you  struggle  and  try — 
And  yet,  after  all,  to  find,  at  last, 
That  both  mercy  and  hope  are  gone  and  past; 
That  woe  and  despair,  and  all  Life's  power. 
Are  like  shadow  and  smoke  in  that  fearful  hour. 
Were  we  made  by  the  hands  of  the  living  God  ? 
Did  he  give  us  no  right  in  our  native  sod  ? 
Was  all — was  all  for  the  stranger's  "law," 
To  swallow  each  day  in  its  greedy  maw  ? 
Was  there  nought  for  us  but  a  curse  and  a  ban, 
To  sink  and  to  die  by  the  will  of  man  ? 
The  bit  from  my  children's  lips  was  wrenched; 
The  coal  that  lay  on  our  hearth  was  quenched; 
And  the  dark  and  cruel  hoof 
Trampled  each  stick  of  our  humble  roof. 
I  saw  the  face  I  loved  gi-ow  pale, 
I  heard  around  the  wild  death-wail. 


Look!  look  on  the  earth — on  the  heaven  !    "Within 

I  could  see  neither  light  nor  right. 
There  was  fiery  pain  on  my  spinning  brain, 

In  my  heart  there  was  icy  night. 
My  veins  with  blood  they  did  not  swell, 
But  with  red-hot  waves  of  the  deepest  hell ; 
Through  my  soul  swept  on  a  hunicane's  thunder 
That  would  rend  the  strong  oaks  of  the  wood  asunder- 
That  would  part  the  breast  of  the  mighty  ocean  : 
Where,  where  was  "right"  in  that  dark  commotion  ? 
Where,  where  were  God,  and  Kight,  and  Heaven  ? 
Scatter'd,  and  blotted,  and  rent,  and  riven  ! 


OUR    TRUE  HEN.  28 

"Was  I  shut  and  boimcl  in  a  block  of  stone  ? 
Should  I  bnru,  and  writhe,  and  find  outlet  none 
For  those  frightful  pangs  that  like  serpents  hiss, 
For  a  mountain  weight  that  is  felt  like  this! 

Dark  was  the  finger  that  showed  the  way, 
Fearful  the  voice  that  the  words  did  say — 
Neighbors  !  men  !  'twas  my  children's  blood 
•That  bathed  me  up  in  a  crimson  flood. 
I  heard  her  cry  in  the  winter  ditch — 
'Twas  the  murdered  poor  'gainst  the  robber  rich. 

He  sat  one  night  at  his  plenteous  table — 
One  night  when  the  sky  was  cold  and  sable; 
I  lock'd  ! — alone  in  the  night  I  stood — 
He  ate  and  drank  of  tny  flesh  and  blood. 
There  was  laughter,  and  joy,  and  gladness — 

For  me  but  woe  and  madness — 

And'a  devil's  voice  in  mine  ear 

That  banished  all  ruth  or  fear — 


OUR     TRUE      MEN. 

1. 

OUK  true  men  !   our  true  men  ! 
We  proudly  sing  them  all. 
In  felon's  chain,  across  the  main, 

Despite  of  tyrant  thrall — 
Our  true  men  !   our  true  men  ! 

We  do  not  fear  to  tell 
How  deep  within  our  inmost  souls 
They  and  their  treason  dwell. 


^0  OUR    TRUE  MEN. 

II. 
Those  true  men,  those  few  men, 

How  truthfully  they  strove, 
Unaided  few,  to  rend  in  two 

The  chains  around  us  wove. 
Our  true  men  !   our  true  men  ! 

Though  coward  tongues  defame. 
They'll  bear  through  every  grief  and  wrong 

A  pure,  undying  narae. 

ni. 
The  loved  ones,  the  proved  ones, 

They  only  trod  the  way 
Where  "  Eight,"  of  yore,  led  some  before, 

And  more  will  guide  to-day. 
Our  true  men  !   our  true  men  ! 

Perchance  like  yoTi  to  fail ; 
But  others  then  -ssdll  fill  the  van, 

And  still  the  struggle  hail ! 

IV. 

For  masters  !   0  masters  ! 

There's  not  our  isle  within 
A  plant  so  green  and  strong,  I  ween. 

As  Disaffection' s  ein. 
'Twill  grow  on,  'twill  blow  on. 

Whatever  you  may  do, 
With  nurture  good,  of  tears  and  blood— 

The  food  it  ever  knew. 

v. 
Our  true  men  !    our  true  men  I 

Oh,  proudly  sing  them  all. 
In  traitor's  chain,  in  wrong  and  pain, 

Or  lonely  wanderers  all ! 
Our  true  men  !   our  true  men  ! 

We  do  not  fear  to  tell 
How  deep  within  our  inmost  souls 

They  and  their  treason  dwell. 


THE  FELON. 


41 


THE      FELON.* 


^rpiS  Ireland's  rallying  cry  : 

J^   We'll  raise  it  to  the  sky, 

With  flashing  sword  and  eye — 

The  Felon  ! 

11. 

'Tis  loud  as  trumpet's  call, 

To  rouse  the  sleepers  all, 

To  strive — to  strike — to  fall ! — 

The  Felon. 

III. 

That  great  voice  struck  the  chime 
Of  a  new  and  wondrous  time — 
Those  deep  tones  rang  si^blime 

Through  the  land. 

IV. 

Never  combat  wrong  with  wrong  ; 
In  truth  alone  be  strong  ! 
Eise  boldly— and,  ere  long. 

You  are  free ! 

V. 

Now,  in  this  time  of  woe, 
That  Gospel  truth  we  know. 
No  parley  with  the  foe 

Shall  we  hold. 


*  John  Mitchel. 


43  THE  FELON. 


VI. 


As  summer  foliage  riven 

By  the  arrows  of  the  levin, 

From  our  hearts  is  softness  driven 

By  that  blow. 


VII. 


'Tis  the  silent,  brooding  hour, 
'Twixt  the  strife  of  Pdght  with  Power, 
Dark,  lurid  glances  lower 

Everywhere. 


VIII. 


Each  red-hot  passion,  lo  ! 
In  this  its  liquid  flow, 
We  mould  as  steel,  that  so 

We  avenge ! 


IX. 


By  the  laws  that  maddening  mock. 
By  the  convict-ship  and  dock. 
By  that  parting's  bitter  shock, 

Stand  prepared  ! 


By  the  all-unconquered  mien. 
In  that  final  moment  seen. 
Undaunted  and  serene. 

Nerve  your  hearts ! 

zi. 

By  his  words,  like  sabre  swing. 
Calm,  keen,  unwavering. 
To  the  winds  endurance  fling 

From  this  day. 


PROGRESS  48 


XII. 


By  the  sacrifice  that  sealed 
The  cloctrine  he  revealed, 
Think,  now,  but  of  the  field. 

And  of  him. 


XIII. 


"For  one — for  two — for  three  !"  t 
Ay,  hundreds,  thousands,  see, 
For  vengeance  and  for  thee  ! 

To  the  last  I 


XIV. 


Oh,  surely  shall  we  show 
To  that  base,  detested  foe, 
That  even  in  wrong  and  woe 

The  victory  was  thine  !  \ 


PROGRESS, 


I. 

1  WAKE,  awake,  from  visions  vain, 
j^  Those  beauteous  clouds  that  turn  to  rain, 
From  hopes  that  light  and  empty  fall. 
Like  "Winter  blossoms,  fruitless  all — 
Go  !   arm  thyself  with  brand  and  shield, 
To  seek,  and  fight,  and  win  the  field. 


t  "  Shall  I  not  answer  for  one,  for  two,  for  three  ?" 

t "  And,  my  Lord,  the  victory  is  with  me."— {Extracts  from  ililchel's  words 
in  the  dock.) 


44  PROGRESS. 

n. 

Awake  !  the  power  is  all  inert 
With  which  thy  soul  is  broadly  girt ; 
The  power  thine  aiiy  dreams  to  make, 
No  cobweb  craft  for  child  to  break  ; 
The  power  to  win  from  ruin  and  wreck 
A  diadem  thy  brow  to  deck. 

in. 

Not  rashly,  hotly,  seek  the  way. 
But  seize  the  weapons  of  the  day  ; 
Coolly  act,  and  gravely  feel, 
Keen  and  sure,  yet  cold  as  steel — 
Let  it  grow,  that  glorious  hour. 
Like  the  growth  of  tree  or  flower  ! 

IV. 

Hun-ying  on,  hurrying  free, 
Like  the  river  to  the  sea, 
Through  the  dark  and  rocky  cave, 
With  its  deep,  resistless  wave  ; 
Strong,  untiring,  secret,  still, 
Be  the  current  of  thy  will ! 

V. 

Underneath  the  sunshine's  glow 
And  the  verdure's  tranquil  show, 
Swiftly  dash  the  waters  fierce. 
Mad  to  gain  and  sure  to  pierce  ; 
Si^-iftly,  darkly,  on  and  on, 
Till  the  goal  at  last  is  won  ! 

n. 

Let  thy  glance  be  calm  and  smooth. 
Let  thy  smile  be  light,  in  sooth  ; 
Shining  on  through  gloom  and  tears, 
Weariness  and  haggard  fears, 
Through  the  Present's  giddy  maze, 
Through  the  Future's  dreary  haze. 


O'DONNELL   OF   TIPPERART.  45 

Yn. 

Stones  before  the  architect, 

The  stately  edifice  erect — 

So  all  life's  events  are  still 

To  him  of  the  determined  will ; 

And,  doubt  not,  it  is  -writ  that  he 

Who  conquers  not  must  conquered  be  I 


O'DONNELL    OF    TIPPERARY.* 


••  T)LACE  me  before  your  scarlet  ranks, 

J[    A  Ihousand  men  and  more, 
And,  though  the  chain  around  me  clanks, 

I'll  keep  the  oath  I  swore. 
Plant  gun  and  bayonet  to  my  teeth, 

And  let  them  pierce  me  through  ; 
But  while  a  heart's  within  my  breast 

I'U  never  speak  for  you  ! 

n. 

' '  Tou  brought  me  here  an  honest  man, 

You  shall  not  make  me  slave — 
■No  eye  shall  ever  '  traitor'  scan 

Upon  ODonnell's  grave. 
The  darkest  wrong  your  power  can  do 

Can  alter  not  the  vow, 
Which  says  my  children  ne'er  shall  see 

That  brand  upon  my  brow  !" 

' ' — — — — — — — ■ 

*The  peasant  farmer  ■who  refused  to  bo  sworn  in  evidence  against  Smith 
O'Brien  in  1818. 


«6  AN  EBIN. 

m. 

The  true  man's  words  are  borne  aloft, 

To  shine  among  the  stars  ; 
We  cherish  them  within  our  hearts 

Despite  of  bolts  and  bars. 
'Mid  all  our  sorrow  and  our  wrongs, 

Our  deep  and  burning  shame, 
The  brighter,  purer  for  it  all 

Appears  O'Donnf.ll's  name  ! 


AN     ERIN.* 


1. 

0  IRELAND  !   Ireland  !   proud  heai-ts  are  breaking 
For  thee  to-day, 
And  eyes  that  watched  for  thy  glad  awaking 

Are  turned  away. 
And  voices  low  and  tearful 

Are  heard  of  Hope  to  sing  ; 
But  the  voice  in  our  heart  so  fearful, 

Nor  comfort  nor  hope  can  bring. 

n. 

O  Ireland  !  Ireland  !   thy  life  is  closing 

In  the  death  of  pain  ; 
From  thy  broken  heart  is  slowly  oozing 

The  shower  of  crimson  rain. 
There  thou  art  prostrate  lying. 

With  the  age  of  grief  grown  gray  ; 
There  thou  art  faintly  sighing 

The  dream  of  the  years  away. 


♦"  An  Krin,"  t.  e.,  "  To  Erin. 


AN  ERIN.  4T 

m. 

O  Ireland  !   Ireland  !   it  is  still  unriven, 

That  clanking  chain  ; 
Yet  the  countless  wealth  that  for  thee  was  given 

Might  ransom  Cain. 
In  vain  were  they  gifted  and  brave  and  triithful — 

Our  martyred  host ; 
Thy  cause  is  woe  to  the  old,  or  youthful — 

All,  all  are  lost ! 

rv. 

But  another,  and  yet  another, 

O'er  thy  cold  bier 
Oh,  pallid  and  lifeless  mother, 

Are  watching  near  ; 
They  dream  in  their  grief's  wild  madness 

That  thou  wilt  awake  again — 
They  call  thee  with  frenzied  sadness. 

Those  heart--«vrung  and  stricken  men ! 

v. 
O  Ireland  !   Ireland  !   dost  hear  them  blending 

That  piercing  dole, 
Through  the  cloud- wrapt  skies  ascending, 

Like  the  cry  of  a  ruined  soul. 
They  know  not,  0  blessed  Mary  ! 

'Tis  flowers  o'er  a  corpse  they  fling  ; 
They  hear  not  the  miserere 

The  pitying  angels  sing, 

VI. 

O  Ireland  !   Ireland  !  no  streak  of  dawning 

Is  on  thy  sky  ; 
Still  at  our  feet  is  the  wide  gulf  yawning, 

Where  treasures  on  treasures  lie. 
Down  through  tht  deep,  deep  darkness 

Victim  on  victim  springs, 
But  the  hour  of  its  closing,  never, 

Or  morning  or  midnight  brings  ! 


48  THE  PEOPLES  CHIEF. 


THE     PEOPLE'S    CHIEF. 


COME  forth,  come  foiih,   0  Man  of  Men  !   to  the  cry  of  the 
gathering  nations; 
We  watch  on  the  tower,  we  watch  on  the  hill,  pouring  our  invo- 
cations— 
Our  Bouls  are  sick  of  sounds  and  shades,  that  mock  our  bitter 

grief, 
We  hurl  the  Dagons  from  their  seats,  and  call  the  lawful  Chief  ! 

n. 

Come  forth,  come  forth,  O  Man  of  Men  !   to  the  frenzy  of  our 

imploring, 
The  winged  despair  that  no  more  can  bear,  up  to  the  heavens 

soaring — 
Come,  Faith,  and  Hope,  and  Love  and  Trust !  upon  their  centre 

rock 
The  wailing  Millions  summon  thee,  amid  the  earthquake  shock  ! 

m. 

W  e've  kept  the  weary  watch  of  years  with  a  wild  and  a  heart-wrung 

yearning. 
But  the  star  of  the  Advent  we  sought  in  vain,  calmly  and  purely 

burning  : 
False  metfors  flashed  across  the  sky,  and  falsely  led  us  on  ; 
The  panting  of  the  strife  is  come,  the  spell  is  o'er  and  gone  ! 

IV. 

The  etorms  of  enfranchised  passions  rise  as  the  voice  of  the 

eagle's  screaming, 
And  we  scatter  now  to  the  earth's  four  winds  the  memory  of  our 

dreaming  ! 


THE  CURSE.  « 

The  clouds  but  veil  the  lightning's  bolt;    Sibylline  murmurs 

ring 
In  hollow  tones  from  out  the  depths :  the  Peoples  seek  their 

King  ! 

V. 

Come  forth,  come  forth,  Annointed  One  !  nor  blazon  nor  honors 

beai'ing  ; 
No  "ancient  line  "  be  thy  seal  or  sign,  the  crown  of  Humanity 

wearing. 
Spring  out,  as  lucent  fountains  spring,  exulting  from  the  ground— 
Arise,  as  Adam  rose  from  God,  with  strength  and  knowledge 

crowned  ! 

VI. 

The  leader'of  the  world's  wide  host  guiding  our  aspirations, 
Wear  thou  the  seamless  garb  of  Truth,  sitting  among  the  Nations  ! 
Thy  foot  is  on  the  empty  forms  around  in  shivers  cast — 
We  crush  j'e  with  the  scorn  of  scorn,  exuvia)  of  the  past ! 

vn. 

The  future's  closed  gates  are  now  on  their  ponderous  hinges 

jarring, 
And  there  comes  a  sound,  as  of  winds  and  waves,  each  with  the 

other  warring : 
And  forward  bends  the  list'ning  world,  as  to  their  eager  ken 
From  out  that  dark  and  mystic  land  appears  the  Man  of  MtN  ! 


s 


THE    CURSE". 

[FBOM  the  IBISH  OF  CAHAIi  o'BEILXT.] 

HE  whisper'd  the  words  in  the  listener's  ear. 
And  the  listener's  brain  was  on  fire  to  hear. 


"  She's  false  !  she's  false  !  to  her  bosom's  core, 
Trust  her  not  now  aa  you  trusted  before  ! " 


60  TIIE  CURSE. 

V 

Wo  !  oh,  wo  !  he  is  cold  and  wan — 

Are  his  heart-strings  broke  ? — is  his  life-breath  gone  ? 

His  life  is  not  gone  ;  it  is  strong  in  hate, 
The  fiend's  breath  swells  in  his  soi;l  ehite. 

Blood,  red  blood,  will  but  quench  the  wrong; 

And  the  wrong  was  quenched  ere  the  moiTOw's  sun. 

The  tempter,  then,  she  has  heard  a  voice: 
"  Thou  shalt  not  now  in  thy  crime  rejoice  ! 

"  Go  !  depart  from  this  outward  world — • 

(  She  hears  the  curse  till  her  blood  is  curdl'd.) 

' '  Go  !  for  seven  long  yeai-s  to  dwell 

In  the  heart  thou  hast  lit  with  the  flames  of  Hell. 

•'  Seven  long  years  'mid  the  hissing  brood, 
Of  snakes  that  there  have  their  daily  food. 

"  And  still,  when  that  heart  is  cold  and  dead, 
Thou'lt  live  as  -well  in  thy  prison  dread. 

' '  With  the  seven  dark  sins  in  thy  breast  to  bum. 
Whilst  thou  art  lock'd  in  that  icy  um. 

"  But  though  thou  rage  as  the  devils  rage, 
'Tis  all  in  vain  in  thy  rigid  cage. 

"  There  in  the  depths  of  the  hopeless  tomb 
Hear  the  words  of  thy  fearful  doom  !  " 

Into  the  heart,  then,  she's  gone  to  dwell, 
That  erst  she  fiU'd  with  the  flames  of  Hell. 

And  ev'n  when  that  heart  is  cold  and  dead, 
She'll  still  live  on  in  her  prison  dread. 

With  the  seven  dark  sins  in  her  breast  to  bum, 
Whilst  she  is  locked  in  that  icy  um. 

And  she  shall  rage  as  the  devils  rage. 
But  all  in  vain  in  that  rigid  cage. 


>> 


A   CAOINE.  n 


There  iu  the  depths  of  the  hopeless  tomb — 
T\'o  !  oh,  wo!  for  that  fearful  doom  ! 

Wo  !  oh,  wo  !    through  all  time  below, 
To  the  hand  that  labors  the  wrong  to  sow. 

"Wo  !  oh,  wo  !  for  the  lying  word. 

From  the  mighty  wrath  of  the  all-just  Lord. 


A    C  AOI  NE. 


[FBOM  THE  ntlSB.] 
I. 

GONE,  gone  from  me,  and  from  the  earth,  and  from  the  sum- 
mer sky, 
And  all  the  bx'ight,  wild  hope  and  love  that  swelled  so  proud  and 

high; 
And  all  this  heart  had  stored  for  thee  -v^ithin  its  endless  deep  ! 
With  me — with  me,  oh  !  nevermore  thou'lt  smile,  or  joy,  or  weep  ! 

II. 

There  are  gold  nails  on  your  coffin;  there  are  snowy  plumes 

above ; 
They  pour  their  pomp  and  honors  there,  but  I  this  woe  and  love — 
The  hopeless  woe,  the  longing  love,  that  turn  from  earth  away, 
And  pray  for  refuge  and  a  home  within  the  silent  clay  ! 

ni. 

Come,  wild  deer  of  the  mountain  side  !  come,  sweet  bird  of  the 

plain  ! 
To  cheer  the  cold  and  trembling  heart  that  beats  for  you  in  vain  \ 
Oh,  come,  from  woe,  and  cold,  and  gloom,  to  her  that's  warm 

and  true. 
And  has  no  hope  or  throb  for  aught  within  this  world  but  you !' 


63  THE  ARD-RIGH-S  BRIDE. 

IV, 

To  the  sad  winds  I  have  scattered  the  treasures  of  my  soul — 
The   sorrow  that  no   tongue   could  speak,   nor  mortal  power 

control — 
And  wept  the  weary  night  and  day,  until  my  heart  was  sore, 
And  every  germ  of  peace  and  joy  was  withered  at  its  core. 

V. 

In  vain,  in  vain,  this  yearning  cry — this  dark  and  deep  despair ! 
I  droop  alone  and  trembling  here,  and  thou  art  lying  there. 
But  though  thy  smile  upon  the  earth  I  never  more  may  see, 
And  thou  wilt  never  como  to  me — yet,  I  may  fly  to  thee  ! 

VI. 

I  never  stood  within  your  home— I  do  not  bear  your  name — 
Life  parted  us  for  many  a  day,  but  Death  now  seals  my  claim; 
In  darkness,  silence,  and  decay,  and  here  at  last  alone, 
You're  but  more  truly  bound  to  me — my  darling  and  my  own! 


THE    ARD-RIGirS    BRIDE.* 


MY  queen  !   my  queen  !   thou  art  won  at  last, 
And  I  whisper  to  thee  of  the  dreary  past  ; 
I  murmur  the  words  in  my  soul  I  kept. 
Through  the  long,  long  years  when  my  darling  slept ; 
And  I  call  thee  my  love,  and  I  call  thee  my  bride, 
And  I  deck  thy  brow  with  a  crown  of  pride. 

For  thou  art  my  own — my  own  ? 

*  The  '*  Ard-fiigh  "  was  the  head  Monarch  of  Eri6— Literally,  Hiffh  King. 


THE  ARD-RIGirS  BRIDE. 


n. 


I  left  my  love  in  the  days  gone  by, 

With  the  terrible  light  of  despair  in  her  eye  ; 

Her  cheek  as  white  as  the  marble  stone, 

And  her  voice  as  sad  as  the  night-wind's  moan — 

For  her  I  would  pour  my  heart's  red  rain, 

But,  ah  !  at  her  side  I  might  not  remain — 

With  her,  all  my  own — my  own  ! 

in. 

"Dream  not,"  they  said ;  " thou  shalt  never  see 
The  hour  that  will  bring  thy  love  to  thee  ; 
For  her  hand  is  bound  with  an  iron  chain, 
And  she  droops  and  pines  in  her  lonely  pain  ; 
The  tomb  for  her  it  is  opening  wide 
Thine  shall  be  soon  but  a  spirit  bride  !" 

Alas  !  and  alas  !  my  own ! 

IV. 

"  Lay  sword  and  shield  in  thy  father's  hall, 
Let  the  red  rust  cover  their  brightness  all  ; 
Cast  thine  armor  down  in  the  blue  sea- wave, 
And  thy  hopes— let  them  find  as  deep  a  grave ; 
For  never,  oh,  never,  on  thee  shall  beam 
The  lovely  star  of  thy  youthful  dream— 
Never  1  ah,  nevermore  I" 

T. 

But  my  soul  soared  up  on  its  wings  of  flame, 

And  a  voice  of  celestial  sweetness  came  : 

It  haunted  my  ears,  my  heart,  my  dreams — 

It  swelled  like  the  murmurs       thousand  streams, 

From  earth  and  sky  and  sea  it  rung 

That  golden  peal  of  immortal  song  : 

It  whispered  my  own — my  own  ! 


U  THE  ARD-RIGH'S  BRIDE. 

TI. 

I  trained  my  steed  fpr  the  crimson  plain, 
And     decked  my  ship  for  the  Btoriny  main, 
And  I  called  the  old,  and  I  called  the  young 
"With  tones  o'er  the  mountain  and  vale  that  rung. 
For  thee  !   for  thee  !   my  star—  my  sun — 
The  hope  of  my  heart,  my  only  one  1 — 

For  thee — and  thy  cause,  mine  own  i 

VII. 

The  clouds  of  the  winter  were  round  my  path  : 
Pome  answered  in  scorn  and  some  in  wrath  ; 
Till  suddenly  out  of  the  gathering  gloom 
Gleamed  banner  and  sword  and  lance  and  plume. 
And  backward  the  clouds  of  the  darkness  rolled. 
And  Iho  morning  came  in  its  blue  and  gold — 

It  dawned  for  my  own— my  own ! 

vni. 

Then  Hope  sprang  high  as  the  white  bird's  wing. 
And  blossomed  the  leaves  and  flowers  of  Spring  ; 
And  the  light  of  my  heart  leapt  into  mine  eyes, 
And  the  blood  to  my  cheek  in  its  burning  dyes, 
For  I  saw  the  gleam  of  thy  silvery  feet, 
And  I  heard  thy  voice  as  the  harp-note  sweet : 

Thou  wert  near  me,  my  own— my  own  ! 

iz. 

And  I  won  thee,  I  won  thee,  amid  them  all  ! 
I  drew  thy  hand  from  its  iron  thrall  ; 
And  I  clasped  thee  close  to  my  aching  breast, 
To  weep,  to  wonder,  to  dream,  to  rest — 
To  wear  the  crown  of  thy  queeiJiy  pride. 
Fairest  of  all,  the  Ard-Iligh's  bride  : 

My  own— at  last,  my  own  1 


OUR   OLDEN  TONGUE.  55 


OUR    OLDEN    TONGUL. 


I. 

11E0M  aim  traclitiou's  far-off  opai  fomitams, 
'  Where  clouds  niiA  sliadows  loom. 

Deep  in  tlie  silence  of  the  tall,  grey  mountain's 

rrimeval  gloom. 
Thy  silvery  .stream  flows  down  with  music  boundir^— 

O  ancient  tongue  I 
With  love  and  tears,  and liugliter  softly  sounding. 
As  wild  bird's  liquid  song  I 

From  ^vind3  and  waters,  in  their  cTioral  mingling, 

Thy  honeyed  words  were  born; 
From  that  strong  pulse  through  Nature's  bosom  tiugliu;^ , 

In  Earth's  first  morn — 
The  quivering  boughs,  in  forests  green  and  olden. 

With  murmurs  low, 
Kang  out  such  accents,  beautiful  and  golden. 

Beneath  the  •da^^^l's  white  glow, 

IIL 

Around,  in  miglity  characters  unfolded. 

Thy  fame  we  yet  discern; 
The  ivied  shrine,  in  grace  and  grandeur  mouldec". 

The  cromlech  stern. 
The  tall,  slim  tower  of  aspect  weird  and  hoary, 

With  dream  and  rann,* 
Full-crested  in  its  lone  and  silent  glory 

Fronting  the  naked  siin. 


'■  Traditionary  lore- 


6S  OUR  OLDEN  TONGUE. 

IT. 
Thou  bring'st  bright  visions,  bardic  strains  enchanting, 

Attuned  in  lordly  halls; 
The  clash  of  spears,  the  banners  gaily  flaunting 

On  palace  walls. 
"NVhite-bearded  sages,  warrior  knights  victorious — 

A  goodly  throng — 
In  panoramic  pomp  of  ages  glorious, 

Before  us  pass  along. 

T. 

O'er  wide  blue  plains  we  see  the  red  deer  bounding, 

In  flickering  light  and  sun; 
And  on  his  track,  ^-ith  deep-toned  bay  resounding, 

The  wolf-hound  dun — 
Old  mountains  dim,  dark  forest,  rock  and  river. 

Those  days  are  o'er  ; 
But  shades  and  echoes  people  ye  for  ever. 

And  shall,  till  time  is  o'er  ! 

TI. 

O  tongue  of  all  our  greatness — all  our  sorrow — 

Shalt  thou,  then,  fail  and  fade  ? 
And  leave  the  full  hearts  mute  that  ne'er  can  borrow 

From  stranger  aid — 
Fit  utterance  for  those  thoughts  whose  stormy  clangor 

Swells  deep  within. 
The  memories  of  our  love,  and  hate,  and  anger, 

■Which  nought  from  us  can  win. 

vn. 
Not  so  f  thou  hast  not  stemmed  the  floods  of  ages. 

Nor  braved  a  conqueror's  sway. 
Thou  hast  not  writ  upon  the  world's  -wide  pages. 

To  pass  away. 
Deep,  deep  thy  root  where  never  human  power 

May  roach  to  spoil, 
And  soon  ^n  wealth  of  vernal  loaf  and  flower, 

Thou'lt  deck  the  olden  soil  I 


FOR  IRELXyS  JLLT^  « 


F 


FOR     IRELAND     ALL 


jiOPk  Ireland  all,  is  tlie  tlinnclpr  cnll, 
>      Fur  Iifliiud  and  her  salvation ; 


Each,  nerve  and  I'aouglit  to  tliC'Causo  bo  brou^-tt 

In  lowly  oc  lofty  station, 
For  Ireland  all,  for  Ireland  all, 

lu  bok'tne,*  or  court  or  castle; 
For  Ireland  all,  or  you  surely  fall — 

Lady,  and  lord,  and  vassal  1 

II. 

'Gainst  England  all,  'gainst  England  all, 

Sprang  from  the  green  old  mother; 
Ev'ry  rank  and  .shade,  be  yon  soon  arrayed 

For  th'il  <'ud  to  help  each  other. 
•Gainst  England  all !  'gainst  England  all ! 

Up  !  up  !  all  you  Irish  races, 
Shall  the  English  hoof  trample  down  your  roof, 

And  dwell  in  your  ancient  places  ? 

ni. 

Oh,  for  Ireland  all  I  oh,  for  Ireland  all ! 

"Whom  an  Irish  soil  has  moulded; 
Who  have  drunk  her  breath,  on  the  hill  and  heath. 

And  are  to  her  bosom  folded. 
Yon  from  her  who  caught  every  tone  and  thought, 

And  dwell  in  her  inspiration, 
Won't  you  aid  her  noM-  ?     Won't  you  save  her  now 

And  make  her  an  Ii-isU  nation  ? 


*  Bohane,  a  liut. 


68  TO  Mr  PATRIOT  BROTHERS. 

IV. 

Come,  like  gallant  knights,  for  her  glorious  rights 

On  the  muster  liLld  displaying 
Each  the  hue  and  crest  he  likes- tlio  best. 

With  his  own  brave  banners  swaying  ! 
Each  the  hue  and  crest  that  he  likes  the  best. 

Unto  the  Btniggle  plighted. 
And  one  and  all,  or  to  gain  or  fall. 

In  the  holy  cause  united  ! 


TO    MY    PATRIOT    BROTHERS, 

I, 

WHEN  first  we  wake  to  that  great  thing, 
The  consciousness  of  power, 
It  is  not  'mid  the  gales  of  spring, 

Nor  in  the  summer  bower. 
Stern  the  voice  the  truth  to  tell, 

Hugged  the  hand  to  guide  : 
Bitter  the  stniggles  of  the  soul — 
By  woe  is  manhood  tried. 

u. 

And  well,  oh,  well  have  we  been  tried, 

And  well  have  we  endured  ; 
The  burden  of  the  day  is  o'er, 

The  triumph  is  secured. 
Thou  who  hast  seen  thy  stricken  land 

Nor  felt  thy  heart  to  break, 
Eemember,  oh,  remember,  thou 

Art  living  for  her  sake. 


OCR  MEMORIES. 


HI. 


Thoiigh  all  be  dark  and  cold  around, 

The  germs  are  still  within 
Of  love  and  hope  and  happiness, 

And  thon  the  fruit  shalt  win. 
Though  broods  above  the  thnnder-cloud, 

And  spreads  around  the  snow, 
The  smile  of  Heaven  is  still  above. 

Its  fostering  care  below. 

rv. 

It  is  the  holiest  effort  here 

To  triumph  o'er  despair  ; 
"What  angel  power  thou  mayest  acqxiire 

Who  once  that  deed  shalt  dare. 
Kemember,  all  the  seeds  of  might 

Are  hid  in  suffering  : 
It  is  the  iron  casket  of 

The  talismauic  ring ! 


OUR     MEMORIES. 


LET  Tis  take  them  to  our  hearts  awhile, 
The  memories  of  our  land  ; 
Though  wrapped  in  woe  and  gloom  they  be, 

Yet  still  they're  proud  and  grand. 
Those  records  old,  like  glowing  gems 

Set  in  the  gold  of  song, 
Are  hoarded  treasures  still  for  us. 
Through  years  of  scorn  and  wrong. 


ta  OUR  MEMORIES. 


II. 


There  are  thousand  themes  of  Ireland's  soil 

For  Irish  tongues  to  tell, 
With  paling  checks,  and  flashing  eyes, 

And  hearts  that  wildly  swell. 
Nor  minstrel  harp,  nor  poet  pen 

Had  e'er  a  nobler  field 
Than  thy  old  name,  lerne  dear. 

Since  far  back  time  can  yield  ! 

ni. 

Heaven  bless  ye,  great  and  good  of  yore, 

For  nil  that  ye  have  left ! 
"Wc  cling  unto  those  lessons  now, 

"Wlien  of  all  else  bereft. 
We  heed  them  well,  we  heed  them  well, 

In  all  their  strength  and  light. 
To  teach  us  how  to  bear  ourselves, 

And  fight  the  glorious  fight. 

rv. 

Oh,  praise  to  Brian's  kingly  namo 

Through  all  the  years  gone  by, 
That  lights  with  steady  radiance 

Our  dark,  tempestuous  sk}' ! 
And  all  the  warrior  chiefs  of  old 

That  noblj'  strove  and  fought — 
We  feci  that  though  we  may  be  slaves. 

It  is  not  wc  that  ought ! 


Yes,  precious  are  the  memories 
Ye  left,  our  fearless  sires  : 

Do  they  not  burn  within  the  land 
Like  consecrated  fires  ? 


OCR  MEMORIES.  M 

Bright  beacons  still  remain  for  us, 

Untired  to  journey  by — 
Not  lit  upon  the  lonely  earth, 

But  shining  in  the  skj'. 

VI. 

Say,  -what  shall  be  the  memories 

That  \re  will  leave  to  giiido 
Our  children  ?     Shall  their  heritage 

Bo  infamy  or  pride  ? 
What  are  the  thoughts  that  shall  ariso 

As  agos  piiss  away  ? 
When,  lingering  on  their  fathers'  name, 

Oh,  will  they  curse  or  pray  ? 

TII. 

Shall  they,  enwrapped  in  Freedom's  light, 

Be  nilers  of  the  land. 
With  fearless  arm  protecting  all 

The  rights  that  wo  had  planned  ? 
Or,  shall  they,  ci-ushed  by  deep  disgrace. 

Be  taunted  and  dL-lied, 
As  of  a  faint  and  braggart  race 

Who  flourished,  shrunk,  and — lied  ? 

VIII. 

Shall  nations  point  to  them  and  say' 

"  Their  sires  were  Helots  born  ? 
They  vowed  to  break  the  stranger's  chain. 

And  yet  they  were  forsworn. 
The  good,  the  great,  were  in  their  ranks. 

And  yet  they  slunk  awaj% 
And  serfs  and  slaves  iipon  the  soil 

Their  chiltlren  are  to-day  !" 


ea  O'BRIEN. 


O'BRIEN. 


VTOT  pronclcst,  not  highest,  of  them  the  true-hearted, 
j\(         Because  of  the  name  round  which  glory  is  set ; 
Not  worshipped  and  wept  for,  that  heroes  departed 

May  see  in  thy  veins  how  their  blood  courses  yet ; 
No  !  not  for  the  rank  of  the  stately  Patrician 

AVert  thou  crowned  and  enthroned  as  our  hope  and  our  trust  > 
But  that  quick  at  the  wail  of  a  suffering  nation, 

That  rank  and  its  mockeries  thou'st  dashed  in  the  dust ! 

n. 

And  forth  from  the  class  of  the  foe  and  the  wronger 

Didst  come  to  the  side  of  the  weak  and  the  few, 
To  raise  thy  right  hand  'gainst  the  league  of  the  stronger— 

The  Tribune,  the  Soldier,  the  Patriot  true. 
Everj'  false  social  chain  gallantly  riving, 

Right  onward  the  nohle  unbendingly  trod, 
To  stand  as  a  man,  for  humanity  striving. 

Before  the  high  altar  of  Freedom  and  God. 

m. 

For  this  art  thou  honored,  with  honor  unfading— 

For  this  art  thou  mourned,  silent,  sternly  and  deep — 
For  this  do  we  strive  'neath  our  thoughts'  sombre  shading 

To  raise  up  the  soul  that  will  struggle,  not  weep. 
And  some  will  reprove  thee;  yes,  weakly  ungrateful, 

They  test  by  the  cold  head  thy  grand  kingly  heart, 
Whose  proud  throb  repelling  their  "  leniency  "  hateful, 

Will  scorn  them  and  dare  them,  'till  Ufe's  breath  depart— 


•SIR  CAHIB  O'DOIIERTY.  63 

IV. 

Will  take  not  the  boon  of  the  base  and  the  coward, 

Whose  empire  but  stands  as  a  lie  and  a  cheat — 
Whose  powtr,  that  in  pride  o'er  the  ocean  hath  tower'd, 

Now  holds  like  assassin  and  bravo  its  seat; 
i'or  the  sword  of  the  soldier,  the  gibbet  and  dagger — 

The  fang  of  the  snake  for  the  lion's  lund  roar; 
And  the  threat  of  the  vain  and  the  impotent  bragger, 

For  scarlet-clad  rapine  resistless  before  ! 


SIR    CAHIR     O'DOHERTY. 

I. 

BY  the  Spanish  plumed  hat  and  the  costly  attire, 
And  the  dark  eye  that's  blended  of  midnight  and  fire, 
And  the  bearing  and  statiire  so  princely  and  tall, 
Sir  Cahir  you'll  know  in  the  midst  of  them  all. 

n. 

Like  an  oak  on  the  land,  like  a  ship  on  the  sea, 
Like  the  eagle  above,  strong  and  haughty  is  he  ; 
In  the  greenness  of  youth,  yet  he's  crowned  as  his  due, 
With  the  fear  of  the  false  and  the  love  of  the  true. 

III. 
Right  fiercely  he  swoops  on  their  plundering  hordes, 
Right  proudly  he  dares  them — the  proud  English  lords; 
And  darkly  you'll  trace  him  by  many  a  trail, 
From  the  hills  of  the  North,  to  the  heart  of  the  Pale — • 

IT, 

By  red  field  and  ruined  keep  and  fire-shrouded  hall, 
By  the  ti-amp  of  the  charger  o'er  buttress  and  wall, 
By  the  courage  that  springs  in  the  breach  of  despair. 
Like  the  bound  of  the  Uon  erect  from  his  lair. 


Si  .  THE  RVIXED  HOME. 

T. 

O'Neill  find  O'Donnell,  Magnire  and  the  rest, 
Iliive  Hheathed  the  sabre  an;!  lowered  the  cr<  st; 
0'('ahan  is  crushed  and  ^laeMahon  is  bound, 
And  Magenuis  slinks  after  the  foe  like  his  hound  ; 

VI. 

But  high  and  nutriuimed  o'er  valley  and  he i.^'ht, 

Soars  the  proud-sweeping  pinion,  so  young  in  its  flight — 

The  toil  and  the  danger  are  braved  all  alone, 

By  the  tierce-taloued  falcon  of  old  Inishowcn.  * 

VII. 

And  thus  runs  his  story :  he  fought  and  he  fell. 
Young,  honori  d  and  br.ive — so  the  seanachies  tell; 
The  foremost  of  those  who  have  guarded  the  Green, 
"When  men  wrote  their  names  with  the  sword  and  the  skein,  t 


THE      RUINED      HOME. 


THE  old  man  stood  at  his  cottage  door. 
To  see  the  home  he  loved  once  more  ; 
But  the  fire  was  quenched,  and  the  roof-tree  broke, 
And  the  crumbling  walls  were  black  ^^•ith  smoke. 

n. 

The  weeds  grew  thick  in  the  garden  ground, 
The  crow  and  the  magpie  hopped  arr)und  ; 
And  the  lew  pale,  scattered  willow  trees 
Shivered  and  moaned  in  the  evening  breeze. 

•  Pronounce*!  luisbown.    t  Skein,  a  wi-apon. 


THE  KUIXED  BOitE.  65 

m. 

The  old  man  leaned  on  his  staff,  and  said  : 
"  I'm  all  alone — the  rest  are  dead  !" 
And  lie  gazed  awhile  with  a  vacant  eye, 
For  he  looked  far  back  in  the  time  gone  by. 

IV. 

He  heard  the  langh,  and  he  heard  the  song, 
And  he  saw  the  children  round  him  throng  ; 
While  the  yellow  dog,  with  the  curly  tail, 
Ban,  barking,  the  joyous  group  to  hail. 

T. 

There  he'd  sat — 'twas  a  pleasant  scene — 
The  cow  was  grazing  upon  the  green  ; 
Within  the  hum  of  the  wheel  was  heard. 
Without  the  chiip  of  the  little  bird. 

VI. 

He  thought  of  thjRn,  and  he  thought  of  now  : 
There  was  the  change — he  mutter'd  how 
"  The  poor  man,  sure,  could  not  pay  the  rich, 
So  his  only  home  was  the  road  and  the  ditch  !" 

VII, 

He  stood  to  pray  at  the  master's  gate, 
And  the  master's  son  rode  out  in  state  ; 
And  he  heanl  the  curse  and  he  heard  the  scoff 
That  bade  him  "  Off,  to  the  workhouse,  off !" 

vin. 
They  wandered  first  through  the  world  vndo  ; 
Some  of  them  bowed  their  heads  and  died. 
The  rest  of  them  sought  the  pauper  shed  : 
•'  Where  are  they  now  ?"     "At  rest,"  he  said. 

ix. 

And  the  old  man  had  come  to  his  cottage  door, 
To  look  on  the  home  he  loved  once  more. 
Then  I  heard  him  pray.     What  asked  he  there  ? — 
A  broken  heail  has  but  one  prayer  ! 


68  A  SCEye  FOB  IRELAND. 


A    SCENE     FOR     IRELAND, 

I. 

IT  was  a  wild  and  rainy  day, 
The  last  of  dark  December's — 
A  ragged  "  pauper,"  drooping,  lay 

Above  the  dying  embers  : 
The  drops  fell  from  the  rotting  roof, 

Marking  the  hours  so  dreary, 

The  hungry  children  stood  aloof, 

Pallid,  and  cold,  and  weary. 


Sad  was  the  wTetched  mother's  brow. 

Her  baby's  wailings  hushing  : 
She  has  no  food  to  give  it  now 

Save  those  h<jt  tears  outgushing. 
Colder  and  colder  blew  the  wind, 

Louder  the  dark  rain  plashes  ; 
And  dimmer  grows  the  fire  behind 

The  heavy  pile  of  ashes. 

m. 

Far,  far  away,  with  pearls  and  gold 

My  Lady's  hair  is  gleaming  ; 
For  every  gem  our  eyes  behold 

A  crimson  drop  is  streaming  ! — 
For  all  the  grace  of  silks  and  laco 

Some  wretches  naked  shiver  ; 
For  every  smile  upon  her  face 

Some  death-blue  lips  will  quiver  ! 


A  SCENE  FOR  JRELASD.  67 

IV. 

There's  not  a  scene  of  lordly  pride, 

(Did  Heaven's  good  light  illuniine), 
But  we  should  know  had,  far  and  wide, 

Its  meed  of  victims  human. 
"We  drain,  perchance,  some  life  away 

From  out  the  sparkling  chalice — 
Some  humble  home  in  ruins  lay, 

Decking  the  gilded  palace  ! 

V. 

Black  thoughts  come  from  the  Famine  Fiend — 

He  whispers  low  and  stealthy — 
"  The  poor  man  has  no  law  or  friend; 

'Tis  not  so  with  the  wealthy  ! 
'Tis  hard  to  see  God's  lights  above, 

While  clouds  and  darkness  bound  us  ; 
'Tis  hard  to  hear  God's  words  of  love 

With  storms  like  those  around  us." 

VI. 

"  Pray  !   pray  !"  so  says  the  devotee, 

"  Thus  is  temptation  warded  :" 
Ah,  little  prayer  had  guided  thet. 

Perchance,  not  gold-enguarded. 
It  is  an  easy  thing  to  pray, 

No  want  or  sorrow  knowing — 
It  is  an  easy  thing  to  say, 

"  I  praise  God  for  bestowing." 

VII. 

Within  your  hand  the  gilded  book. 

Upon  the  cushion  kneeling  ; 
And  in  your  home  no  word  nor  look, 

One  Geyser  spring  unveiling. — 
But  try  to  pray,  and  try  to  love, 

Pain-wTung  and  soul-degraded — 
The  LoKD  God  judges  "  crime  "  above. 

But  not  as  man  has  weighed  it. 


68 


COURAGE. 


OUR  AGE. 


T)ISE,  sinking  sla-ve,  he  strong  and  brave? 
\j    It  is  the  final  hour  : 
The  boldest  to  be  bolder  still, 

The  -weak  no  more  to  cower — 
To  press  upon  them  nerve  and  bone, 

Of  failing  not  a  breath — 
To  stand  before  them,  face  to  face. 
For  Vengeance  or  for  Death  ! 

n. 

My  soul  like  mountain  torrent  swells, 

AVith  Erin's  love  and  -wTong  ; 
To  dare  the  tyrant  to  the  last. 

My  heart  is  true  and  strong. 
O  God  !  that  tears  -will  fall  like  rain. 

And  vengeance  yet  be  still, 
While  battle  strife  around  is  rife. 

And  wildest  passions  thrill. 

in. 

Go !  talk  no  more  in  whining  tone- 
Come,  raise  the  warlike  cry  ; 

My  countrymen,  'tis  harder  far 
To  live,  than  nobly  die  ! 

To  live  in  chains,  in  bitter  pains, 
The  thought  for  ever  shun  ! 

In  one  short  hour,  by  valor's  power, 
Or  fame— or  Ileaven  is  won. 


THE  OUTLAW.  68 


IV, 

The  angels  are  the  mourners  sweet, 

Above  the  soldier's  bed  ; 
God's  brightest  smile  is  on  the  spot 

"Where  patriot  blood  is  shed. 
The  curse  of  Heaven,  the  shame  of  earth 

Is  on  the  willing  slave — 
Dishonored  life,  dishonored  death, 

And  darkness-shrouded  grave  ! 


THE     OUTLAW. 


MY  love  is  away  o'er  the  hill  and  the  steep, 
Where  the  sea-eagle  screams  and  the  deer  wildly  leap  ; 
He  wanders  alone  through  each  dark  desert  hunnt 
With  a  heart  and  a  bearing  no  danger  can  daunt. 

II. 
He  walks  like  a  true  man,  with  sword  by  his  side — 

For  daring  he  loves  as  the  face  of  his  bride  ; 
He  dared  them  with  nximbers— the  stniggle  was  vain — 

Unaided,  that  strong  heart  new  dares  them  again. 

in. 
My  chieftain  and  lord,  how  my  thoughts  fly  to  you  ! 

With  worship  and  love  that  is  worthy  and  true  ; 
I  smile  for  your  glory,  I  weep  for  your  wrong, 

I  think  and  I  dream  of  you,  soul  of  my  song  ! 

IV, 

I'd  roam  at  your  side  through  the  rock  and  the  wild, 
Where  danger  is  darkest,  and  joy  never  smiled — 

The  spring  and  the  summer  IJd  find  in  my  love. 
All  peace  and  all  bhss  wheresoe'er  he  would  rove. 


70  THE  MEN  IX  JAIL   FOR  IRELAND. 

Y. 

"We'd  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  fair  mountain  ash, 

Where  the  storm  fiercely  sweeps  and  the  rude  toiTents  dash 

"We'd  talk  of  our  love,  still  so  time  and  so  warm, 
That  aught  of  misfortune,  no,  never,  could  harm. 

YI. 

"We'd  cling  but  the  closer  when  danger  was  near ; 

We'd  smile  hut  the  fonder  when  all  seemed  most  drear  : 
We'd  treasure  each  hour  that  so  kindly  flew  by, 

And  left  us  together  to  live  or  to  die  ! 


THE    MEN    IN   JAIL    FOR    IRELAND. 

Air — "  Irish  Molly  O." 
I. 

COME,  shrink  not  back  with  coward  fears, 
Nor  brag  as  cowards  do. 
Nor  make  lament  in  words  and  tears 

For  these,  our  Patriots  true. 
But  treasure  deep  within  your  breast 

The  oath,  through  good  or  ill, 
To  stand  to  them  while  life  shall  last^ 
The  men  in  Pentouvillo  ! 

II. 

Yes  !   vengeance  is  the  hero's  grief, 

And  that  be  ours  alone  ; 
Our  vow  should  bo  but  stern  and  brief, 

Yet  knit  with  V^lood  and  bone. 
We'll  cuon  them  best  when  through  the  land, 

Our  war-cry  echoes  shrill, 
With  gun  on  shoulder,  pike  in  hand — 

The  men  in  Pentonville  ! 


THE  MEN  AY  JAIL  FOR  IRELAND.  71 

III. 

Cold  dastards  we— could  auglit  to-day 

Our  footsteps  turn  aside, 
A  moment,  from  the  sacred  way 

Which  they  have  trod  with  pride. 
All  rough  and  blood-stained  though  it  bo 

Yet  we  will  follew  still 
Upon  their  track,  right  fearlessly— 

The  men  in  Pentonville  ! 

IV. 

Full  well  they  showed  their  hardihood, 

Ay  !  in  the  felon's  dock  ; 
Erect — unswerving — there  they  stood 

As  firm  as  Cashel's  rock. 
They  laughed  to  scorn  the  tyrant's  might, 

In  words  that  burn  and  thrill 
Through  every  heart  that  loves  the  right — 

The  men  in  Pentonville  ! 

V. 

Then  keep  the  watch,  my  brothers  all. 

Let  not  your  courage  fail ; 
"Within  the  gloomy  prison  wall 

They  do  not  flinch  or  quail ! 
If  power  there  be  in  love  or  hate, 

'Twill  not  be  long  until 
The  time  will  come  for  which  they  wait — 

The  men  in  Pentonville  ! 

VI. 

A  cruel  grasp  is  on  their  throats. 

Our  gallant  Spartan  band  ; 
A  tiger  vengeance  o'er  them  gloats,  *''»' 

As  o'er  their  suffering  land. 
God  keep  them  in  their  hour  of  need  ! 

God  guard  them— and  he  will ! — 
To  reap  the  crop,  who  sowed  the  seed — 

The  men  in  Pentonville  ! 


73  THE  M.UD  OF  LOUGH  IN  A. 


THE     MAID     OF     LOUGH     INA 


UPON  Lough  Ina's  lonely  shore 
She  sat  heKide  the  cottage  door, 
And  round  and  round  the  light  wheel  flew, 
As  swift  as  the  slender  threads  she  drew, 
And,  ah  !  my  fate  she  spun  it  too  i 

ir. 
She  spun  the  thread  of  snowy  white, 
All  flecked  with  gleams  of  golden  light ; 
And  as  her  small  foot  tapped  the  ground, 
And  swift  the  wheel  went  round  and  round, 
My  heart  went  with  it  firmly  bound. 

ni. 
Upon  me  flashed  the  sweet  surprise 
Of  those  pure,  modest,  changeful  eyes  : 
Her  face  before  me  drooping  low. 
As  fair  as  apple  blossoms  show — 
Now  flushed  to  rose,  now  jmled  to  snow. 

iv. 
And  turning  round,  with  glances  shy, 
And  voice  like  breezes  murmuring  by. 
Her  red  lips  sought  -wilh  gracious  mind 
A  word  of  greeting  soft  and  kind, 
For  me,  the  stranger  guest,  to  find. 

V. 

And,  oh,  the  thread  she  spun  so  deft 
Was  woven  then  both  warp  and  weft ; 
And  in  that  web  of  colors  fair. 
Wrought  by  enchantments  rich  and  rare, 
My  thread  of  life  ran  everywhere. 


BRIDGET  CnmSE  m  CAROLAN. 


1i3 


VI. 


I  lingered  by  Lough  Ina's  shore; 
Of  home  and  friends  I  thought  no  more— 
Her  hair  in  tendrils  bright  that  hung, 
Were  chains  to  bind  me  close  and  sArong, 
And  so  the  sweet  days  sped  along. 

VII. 

We  heard  the  fairy  numbera  «5well. 
Around  us  closed  the  magic  spell  ; 
And  all  the  rosy,  laughing  hours, 
From  out  their  amaranthine  bowers. 
Flew  by  us,  wreathed  in  light  and  flowers. 

VIII. 

Two  souls  there  were  at  length  that  came. 
Each  unto  each  by  Love's  own  claim  ; 
As  on  the  bough  two  dew-drops  lone 
la  tender  light  together  shone, 
Drew  nearer — trembled — and  were  one  ! 


BRIDGET    CRUISE    TO    CAROLAN. 


I. 


BY  fairy  rath  and  haunted  dell  ___ 

I  seek,  asthore,  for  thee,  «BL. 

In  fear  some  sweet,  unpitying  spell  ^^Iw 

May  steal  thee  far  from  me. 
With  sunny  smiles  to  win  thy  love. 

With  gentle  words  to  bind, 
More  bright  than  aught  thy  dreams  are  of, 
Is  that  thou  leavest  behind. 


n  nnwGET  cruise  to  carolan. 

n. 

There's  gladness  in  tlie  morning  sky. 

And  music  in  the  stream, 
Soft  fragrance  in  the  breeze's  sigh, 

And  glory  in  the  beam. 
And  rest  beneath  the  greenwood  tree  ; 

But  better  far  than  all. 
The  wild,  deep  love  that  holds  for  thee 

My  heart  in  endless  thrall ! 


nr. 

X  listen  to  the  floods  that  pour 

From  that  sweet  fount  of  song, 
And  bathe  my  spirit  o'er  and  o'er. 

As  thus  they  roll  along. 
I  look  upon  the  di'oopiug  lid 

That  veils  those  darkened  eyes, 
And  think  how  Heave  n  is  from  us  hid 

By  yon  enshrouding  skies  I 

rsr. 

Still  to  that  loved  face  gazing  up 

I  sit  in  homage  far, 
An  humble  flower  that  opes  its  cup 

With  incense  to  a  star. 
Oh,  flies  the  wild  bird  to  the  bough, 

The  river  to  the  sea, 
The  red  deer  up  the  mountain  brow, 

^VnJ  this  fond  heart  to  theo ! 


TO    THE  SaANNON.  75 


TO       THE      SHANNON. 

I. 

MY  own  sweet  river  Shantion,  tliou  comest  a  long,  long  way 
To  cheer  mo  in  my  lonely  home,  with  smile  so  fond  and  gay. 
Thj'  silver  wavu  has  wandered  'mid  many  a  pleasant  scene, 
Through  smiling  plains  and  valleys  all  flowing  bright  and  green, 
And  by  the  proud-arched  ruins  bathed  in  Time's  mellow  glow, 
Where,  with  an  emerald  radiance,  old  trees  droop  down  below, 
And  where  blight,  genth;  memories  a  softened  odor  shed 
Of  lofty  deeds  and  ancient  names  long  numbered  with  the  dead  ! 

II. 
On  through  the  haunts  where  mingle  the  passion  and  the  strife 
That  sweep  in  angry  surges  through  our  ever-varyiug  life  ; 
But  still  through  all  thy  wanderings  thou'st  come  at  last  to  me, 
My  own  sweet  river  Shannon,  a  welcome  unto  thee. 
The  fair,  white  lilies  smiling  upon  thy  azure  breast 
Within  their  broad  leaves'  shelter,  are  hushed  in  tender  rest, 
And  from  the  clustering  hazel-trees  that  fringe  thy  banks  along 
There  comes  through  all  the  summer  eve  the  thrush  and  black- 
bird's song. 

III. 
High  over  thee  are  bending  Slievebouchta's  hills  in  pride, 
A.5  onward  to  the  sunny  south  thy  kingly  waters  glide — 
The  south ! — the  noble,  heroic  south ! — 'tis  there  thdu'lt  find  the 

true, 
The  brave  and  loyal-hearted  that  former  ages  knew. 
The  hands  and  hearts  that  still  defend  their  country's  sacred 

cause. 
And  rise  undauntedly  against  the  oppressor  and  his  laws.  ffl|k 

My  own  sweet  river  Shannon,  now  hurrying  to  the  sea,  ^|p 

Oh,  lose  not  in  its  mighty  depths  the  love  I  give  to  thee  ; 
For  I,  when  Time  shall  launch  me,  too,  on  Life's  tempestuous 

wave, 
Shfill  cease  not  to  remember  thee,  save  in  the  silent  grave  ! 


76  A    WELCOME. 


w 


A      W  E  L  C  O  M  E . 

[FEOMTBE  lEISH.] 


"ITTELCOME,  again,  as  the  May's  scented  blossom  ! 
\  \     Welcome,  again,  to  yonr  home  in  this  bosom  ! 
Oh  !   for  the  sweet  blessed  hour  that  has  brought  you 
Back  to  the  arms  that  so  long,  long  have  sought  you  ! 
Welcome,  oh,  welcome  the  wild  ringing  laughter. 
Tears  than  the  evening  dew  sweeter  and  softer. 
Music  and  light  in  my  soul's  depth  o'erflowing, 
Pulses  that  throb — color  coming  and  going — 


Whispere  that  none  but  my  loved  one  shall  Usten, 

Glances  where  every  fond  secret  shall  gUsten, 

Clasping  of  hands  that  have  long  been  asunder, 

IJearts  overflo\\-ing  with  rapture  and  wonder. 

Thoughts  like  the  young  leaves  so  joyously  dancing, 

When  warm  sun  and  sweet  winds  around  them  are  glancing  ! 

Joy  for  me,  joy  ! — for  you  never  \\\\\  leave  me  ; 

And  now  there  is  nought  on  the  \vide  earth  to  grieve  me. 

in. 

Glad  as  the  bird  up  the  summer-vault  singing, 
Light  as  the  bough  with  its  gay  blossom  springing. 
Bright  us  the  gold  sparks  that  glisten  and  quiver, 
At  morning  or  eve  on  the  breast  of  the  river — 
Calm  as  the  child  in  its  soft  slumber  lying  ; 
Blest  as  the  saint  to  his  home  above  flying — 
Fiilfd  with  a  love  ever  thrilling  and  burning, 
S'>  am  I  now  at  my  darling's  returning  ! 


THE  LEPRECHAVN.  W 


THE    LEPRECHAUN.* 


OH,  the  lonely,  qiiiet  glen, 
Where  the  hazel  trees  are  green, 
And,  among  the  bushes  hiding, 
The  humble  stream  is  gUding, 
Murmuring  as  in  reverie. 
The  long,  long  day,  so  tranquilly. 

n. 

Where  the  blackberries  droop  low. 

Whore  gleams  the  glossy  sloe, 

And  nuts  are  clustering  brown 

On  thick  branches,  drooping  down; 

And,  sometimes,  soft  and  clear  is  heard 

The  music  of  the  sweet  blackbird. 

III. 

There,  when  the  sun  is  low, 

A  tapping  noise  doth  come  and  go; 

'Tis  the  Leprechaun  at  his  last, 

At  which  he  raps  away  so  fast. 

He  wears  a  cocked  hat  on  his  head, 

And.  a  tiny  coat  of  scarlet  red, 

rv. 

Oft  so  quickly  and  so  keen. 

Bright  his  glance  around  is  seen; 

And  if  a  mortal  he  espies. 

Quick  as  lightning  then  he  flies, 

And  naught  of  him  can  you  then  trace 

Within  that  lonely,  sileut  place. 


% 


*  The  Irish  Fairy  Shoemaker. 


W  TIP  PER  ART. 

T. 

Oh,  coukl  j'oii  steal  upon, 
And  catch  fast  the  Leprechaun, 
You  might  win  the  gold  so  rare, 
Stores  of  which  he's  hid  somewhere. 
When  the  tap!  tap!  tap!  you  hear, 
Steal  quietly  and  slowly  near. 

VI. 

Some  soft  balmy  evening,  when 
The  sun  is  sinking  in  the  glen. 
As  the  fairy  workman  plies. 
Quickly  spring  and  seize  the  prize. 
And  ask  him  then  the  spot  to  show 
"Where  bright  the  hidden  treasures  glow. 

vn. 
Look  not  round,  or  then  is  gone 
From  your  grasp  the  Leprechaun ; 
And  his  mocking  laugh  you'll  hear 
Ringing  'round  so  strange  and  clear. 
Oh,  keep  your  hand  and  eye  upon 
The  little,  wily  Leprechaun! 


TIPPERARY. 


# 


I. 

WERE  you  ever  in  sweet  Tipperary,  where  the  fields  are  bo 
sunny  and  green, 
And  the  heath-brown  Slieve  Bloom  and  the  Galtccs  look  down 

with  so  proud  a  mien  ? 
Oh,  'tis  there  you  would  see  more  beauty  than  is  on  all  Irish 

ground: 
God  bless  you,  my  sweet  Tipperary,  for  where  could  your  match 
be  found  ? 


TIP  PER  ART,  73 

II. 

They  say  that  your  hand  is  fearful,  that  darkness  is  in  your  eye; 
But  I'll  not  let  them  dai-e  to  utter  so  bitter  and  "black  a  lie. 
Oh,  no,  viacushla  sthoirin,  bright,  bri^'ht  and  warm  are  you, 
^With  hcait  as  bold  as  the  men  of  old,  to  yourselves  and  your 
country  true  1 

HI. 

And  when  there  is  gloom  upon  you,  bid  them  think  who  has 

brought  it  there; 
Sure,  a  frown  or  a  word  of  hatred  were  not  made  for  your  face 

so  fair. 
You've  a  hand  for  the  grasp  of  friendship,  another  to  make  them 

quake. 
And  they're  welcome  to  whichsoever  it  pleases  them  most  to  take. 

IV. 

Shidl  our  homes,  like  the  huts  of  Connaught,  be  crumbled  before 

OTU"  eyes  ? 
Shall  we  fly,  like  a  flock  of  wild  geese,  from  all  that  we  love  and 

prize  ? 
No;  by  those   who  were  here  before   us:!    no  chtirl  shall  oui 

tyrant  be — 
Our  land  it  is  theirs  by  plunder,  but,  by  Brigid !  ourselves  are 

free ! 

V. 

We  ne'er  can  forget  the  greatness  did  once  to  our  isle  belong  ; 

No  traitor  or  craven  spirit  was  ever  our  race  among. 

And  no  frown  or  no  word  of  hatred  we  give— but  to  pay  them 

back  : 
In  evil  we  only  follow  our  enemy's  darksome -track  J 

XI. 
Oh,  come  for  awhile  among  us,  and, give  us  the  friendly  hand. 
And  you'U  see  that  old  Tipperary  is  a  loving  and  gladsome  land 
From  Upper  to  Lower  Ormond  bright  welcomes  and  smUes  will 

spring : 
On  the  plains  of  Tipperary  the  stranger  is  like  a  kingi 


W  LOUGB-A-SEOLA. 


LOUGII-A-SEOLA.* 


^rpiS  a  beantiful  spot  -where  the  bilberries  grow,  -¥ 

J[     Down  by  the  caku  lake's  side  ; 
And  quietly  in  the  long  rushes  below 
The  shy  little  waterfowl  hide. 
There  tlaggers  are  peeping. 
And  sunbeams  are  sleeping. 
And  white  flowers  wave  to  and  fro. 
Oh,  a  beautiful  spot  is  that  silver  lake  side, 
^Vhere  the  ripe,  ruddy  bilbenics  grow  1 

n. 

There's  a  wee,  fairy  isle  resting  on  that  bright  lake. 

Silently  musing  alone ; 
And  softly  around  it  the  blue  waters  break 
With  a  musical  whisijer  and  moan. 

From  the  past,  dim  and  hoary. 
Comes  a  shadowy  glory 
Of  legend,  and  story,  and  song  ; 
But  through  all  the  years  that  have  faded  and  flown  - 
Smiles  that  green  isle,  stUl  blooming  and  yoimg ! 

m. 
Once  round  those  shores,  where  the  evening  breeze  sighs, 

Hath  the  foot  of  the  warrior  prest, 
And  banners  have  waved  where  the  wild-duck  now  flies 
To  her  home  in  the  sedge-covered  nest. 
How  fair  the  portraying 
Of  fancy  thus  playing. 
While  shines  out  the  sun,  low  and  mellow, 
Transmuting  thy  breast  that  lies  softly  at  rest. 
From  bright  silver  to  gold,  sweet  Lough-Seola  ! 

•Pronounced  Laugh-a- Sella.    liOugh-a-Seola,  or  lake  of  the  "  sally  "  or  wil- 
low treeB,  iu  Bituated  near  Uc-adford,  in  tbo  county  of  Galway,  Ireland. 


PRINCESS  DLAXMB.  SI 


PRINCESS     BLANAID.* 

T. 

FAIEY-GIFTED  are  my  fingers  as  Qiey  touch  the  trembling 
■string, 
And  strangely  sweet  my  voice,  ihey  say,  like  heavenly  bells  thai 

ring, 
As  in  those  halls  of  splendor  her  beauty 's  praise  I  sing — 
The  praise  of  Princess  Blanaid,  the  daughter  of  iho  king, 

n. 

If  I  said  her  face  was  fairer  than  the  dawning  of  the  day, 

And  her  cheek  more  fresh  and  glowing  than  the  blossoms  of  the 
May, 

And  more  hthe  her  form  and  slender  than  the  ash-bough's  grace- 
ful play. 

And  statelier  than  the  bounding  deer  upon  the  mountain  grey — 

in. 

If  I  said  her  eyes  had  stolen  the  summer's  midnight  blue, 
With  all  the  glory  in  their  depths  of  summer  starUght  too  ; 
And  like  a  black,  black  river  her  hau-  of  ebon  hue. 
That  down  in  mazy,  rii)ioUug  waves  unto  her  white  feet  grew — 

IV. 

That  her  breath  was  far  more  balmy  than  the  r'llloge's  rich 

perfume, 
iind  brighter  than  the  rosy  heath  her  tender  virgin  bjoom  ; 
And  silvery  sweet  her  voice,  and  low,  as  birds  at  evening  sing — 
'Twould  be  only  true  of  Blanaid,  <he  daughter  of  the  king. 

*  Pronounced,  Blana. 


82  THE  BOLT  WELL, 

T. 

Ah,  that  I,  her  father's  minstrel,  should  but  dare  to  dream  Iho 

dream 
That  sends  with  lightning  speed  along  my  heart's  red-rushing 

stream, 
And  makes  the  hidden  light  within  flash  up  into  mine-  eyes, 
Perchance  revealing  to  the  crowd  what  I  would  fain  disguise. 

n. 
Alas  !  for  all  the  madness,  the  rapture  and  the  pain, 
That  may  speak  in  murmurs  only,  for  all  words  were  wild  and 

vain  ! 
In  the  silence  and  the  midnight  of  my  soul  alone  I  sing 
Of  my  love  for  Princess  Blanaid,  the  daughter  of  the  king. 

TH. 
But  to  tell  the  winds  my  story,  and  the  lonely  stars  and  moon, 
And  the  music  streams  and  whispering  trees  through  the  golden 

nights  of  June, 
And  she  but  there  beside  mo,  within  the  greenwood  ring — 
The  beauteous  Princess  Blanaid,  the  daughter  of  the  king. 


THE     HOLY     WELL. 

I. 

^rpWAS  a  very  lonely  spot,  with  beech  trees  o'er  it  drooping  ; 
J_  The  waters  gleamed  beneath 

Those  fair  green  branches,  lowly  stooping — 
"  Bcnedicite  !"  seemed  to  breathe. 

n. 

A  deep  and  tender  light  came  through  the  green  leaves  peeping, 
Where  tiny  insects  dreamed; 
A  holy  calm  on  all  was  sleeping. 
The  sunHght  drowsy  seemed. 


THE  HOLT  WELL.  83 

ni. 

Oh,  the  silence  there  that  dwelt,  fast  in  a  trance  it  bound  you ; 
There  niunniared  manj'  tones 
That  crept  inaumerable  round  you — • 
Low  whisperings  and  moans. 

IV. 

In  that  little  silvery  well  how  many  tears  fell  heavy  1 
What  homage  there  was  poured  I 
To  Mary,  sweet,  how  many  an  Av& 
Sought  for  her  saving  word  ! 

V. 

I  strayed  one  evening  calm  to  this  low  shining  water : 
The  Virgin  there  might  be — 
So  lovely  looked  it,  you'd  have  thought  her 
Guarding  it  tenderly. 

VI. 

When  through  the  silence  there  some  one  I  heard  a-praying, 
(A  poor  "  dark  "*  girl  was  she) — 
Upon  her  bare  knees  she  was  swaying. 
Telling  her  rosary. 

vn. 
Oh,  that  little  maiden  sweet,  fair-haired  she  was  and  slender  *, 
Her  sad  smile  ht  the  place. 
Her  blue-cloak  hood  had  fallen,  and  tender 
'Neath  it  gleamed  her  face. 

vni. 
"  She-the-vah .'"  ]  she  murmuring  said,  "  O  Queen  of  power  and 
meekness, 

Let  me  but  see  the  light ; 
My  mother  droops  with  age  and  sickness  : 
For  her  sake,  give  me  sight ! 

*  Blind.        t  Hail  to  thee. 


B4  GLENMALOE. 

IS. 
"Oh,  my  weeny  sister's  gone,  and  we're  left  alone  and  pining- 
Bnt  two  in  this  world  wide  ; 
If  I  could  greet  the  fair  sun  shining, 
And  be  her  stay  and  guide !" 


You'd  think  blind  Bridgh  did  see  the  face  of  the  Almighty, 
So  radiant  was  her  face  ; 
Through  the  deep  darkness  of  her  lught.  Ho 
Poured  out  the  light  of  grace ! 

XI. 

Just  hke  a  saint  she  seemed,  His  pleasure  waiting  only : 
I  could  not  choose,  but  weep, 
And  join  her  in  that  shrine  so  lonely, 
Breathing  petitions  deep  ! 


GLENMALOE. 

[FBOU  TH£  ibish]. 


WHEIIE  is  the  blackbird  singing 
The  live-long  day  ? 
Where  is  the  clear  stream  linging, 

This  golden  May  ? 
Ah  !  I  know  where  the  bird  is  singing, 
And  I  know  where  the  stream  is  ringing, 
For  my  heart  to  that  spot  is  clingii.^. 
Far,  far  away ! 


GLENMALOE.  85 


n. 

Lightly  the  silver-rushes  * 

WavG  to  and  fro  ; 
Thick  are  tho  hazel  bushes, 

Black  the  sloe  ; 
Sweet  are  the  winds  that  whistle, 
Green  arc  the  boughs  that  rxistle, 
There,  where  the  wild  birds  nestle. 

In  Glenmaloe  ! 

m. 

Faint  are  the  murmurs  humming. 
Through  breeze  and  stream, 

Dim  are  tho  shadows  coming — 
A  fairy  dream  ! 

Harp  notes  are  heard  to  tingle, 

Voices  of  spirits  mingle. 

Deep  in  each  hollow  dingle. 
Where  violets  gleam  ! 

IV. 

Ah  !  but  tho  years  are  dreary, 

Since  long  ago — 
Ah  !  but  this  heart  is  weary, 

Sweet  Glermaloe  ! 
Thuiking  of  visions  faded. 
Lightsome  and  glad  that  made  it- 
Hopes  that  for  aye  are  shaded, 

So  weU  I  know  ! 

V. 

Still  is  the  blackbird  singing 

Tho  live-long  day ; 
Still  are  the  waters  ringing 

This  golden  May — 


*The  Meadow-sweet,  called  in  Irish  "  Silver-reed. 


86  DT   TEE   WEST. 

But,  ah  !  not  for  me  that  singing, 
Nor  tho  stream  with  its  silver  ringing, 
Though  my  heart  to  that^spot  is  chngjng 
Far,  far  away ! 


IN     THE     WEST. 

X. 

ACROSS  the  lone  wild  wave  the  breezes  play, 
All  filled  with  fragrance  from  another  clime- 
Another  clime,  whose  skies  are  soft  and  grey, 

As  heavy  with  the  storied  mists  of  time — 
With  subtle  sweetness  through  the  summer  air 
Still  float  around  a  thousand  golden  dreams  : 
A  host  of  memories,  pale  and  sad  and  fair, 
FromJilrie  of  the  ever-voiceful  streams. 

n. 

There  in  the  West,  in  sparkling  crystal  chains, 

The  lovely  lakes  in  sun  and  shadow  lie  ; 
Where  lordly  Milrea  *  in  his  grandeur  reigns, 

A  frowning  monarch  towering  to  the  sky  ; 
And  there  a  hundred  gi-een  lone  islets  smile, 

Each  with  its  ivied  ruiu  or  Oghum  t  stone — 
From  dim  tradition  who  may  ever  wile 

The  mystic  stories  of  those  ages  gone  ? 

ni. 

The  drowsy  mists  of  June  are  full  of  balm. 
The  shadows  fly  across  the  spreading  plain, 

And  'mid  the  sun  and  blue  of  Summer  calm 
We  taste  a  beauty  which  is  almost  pain. 

•  The  highPHt  of  the  monntains  in  /ar-Connaught. 
t  0^/ium— The  Druidic  Alphabet. 


MURMURS.  87 

Deep  bowls  of  verdure  in  the  mountain  side, 
Give  us  to. quaff  of  peace  and  rest  and  cool, 

'Neatb  clouds  of  deepest  blue  and  amber  dyed, 
With  culled  fiinge  of  Boft  and  snowy  wool. 

IV. 

There  grows  all  peaceful  on  the  boggy  lawn 

The  ijurple  heath  and  rilloge  *  clustering  low, 
The  lusmore  t  and  the  sno%vy  canavan  \, 

The  waving  ash,  where  crimson  berries  grow. 
I  hear  the  music  of  the  singing  rills, 

Tripping  with  silvery  feet  upon  their  way 
Adown  the  bronzed  crags,  the  heathy  hills, 

Until  they  die  in  spirit  sighs  away. 


MURMURS. 

[FBO>[  THE  IBISB] 
I. 


THE  stars  are  watching,  the  winds  are  playing, 
They  see  me  kneeling,  they  see  me  praying, 
They  hear  mo  still  through  the  long  night  saying 
Asthore  machree,  I  love  yon,  I  love  you  ! 

n. 

And,  oh  !  with  no  love  that  is  light  or  cheerful. 
But  deep'ning  on  its  shadow  fearful, 
"Without  a  joy  that  is  aught  but  tearful — 
'Tis  thus  I  love  you,  I  love  you  ! 

*  JJ»7Zo^«— Bog  Myrtle,    i  Lusmore — Foxglove,    t  Canauan— Bog  Cotton. 


MURMURS. 


m. 


"Wliisp'ring  still  with  those  -ffhispcrs  broken, 
Spcuking  ou  what  cuu  uo'cr  be  spoken, 
"Were  all  the  voices  of  earth  awoken, 

Oh,  how  I  love  you,  I  love  you ! 


IV. 


"With  all  my  heart's  most  passionate  throbbing, 
With  wild  emotion  and  wearisome  sobbing. 
Love  and  hght  from  all  others  robbing. 
So  well  I  love  yon,  I  love  you  ! 


"With  the  low,  faint  murmurs  of  deep  adoring, 
And  voiceless  blessingfi  forever  pouring,     • 
And  sighs  that  fall  wth  a  sad  imploring  : 

'Tis  I  who  love  you,  who  love  you  ! 


vr. 

With  the  burning,  beatmg,  the  inward  hushing, 
Ever  and  ever  in  music  gushing  . 
Like  mystic  tones  from  the  seti-shell  rushing— 
'Tis  strangely  I  love  you,  I  love  you  1 

■VII. 

Thoy  pass  mo  dancing,  thoy  puss  me  singing, 
While  night  and  day  o'er  the  cartli  arc  winging, 
But  I  sit  here,  to  my  trance  still  clinging, 
For,  oh,  I  love  you,  I  love  you  ! 


BIDDY.  89 


BIDDY. 

z. 

OVER  the  wash-tiib  and  the  suds, 
Poor  Biddy  stoops  iu  shabby  duds  ; 
And,  through  her  work,  you'll  hear  the  croon 
Of  some  low,  plaintive  Irish  tune — 
Untidy  Biddy ! 

II. 

But  touching,  sooth,  they  arc  to  mo, 
The  suds,  the  song— ah  !  Bridgh  3Iachree— 
They  bring  me  back  some  thousand  mile. 
To  one  sweet,  darling,  verdant  isle. 

Heav'n  bless  you,  Biddy  ! 

m. 
There  rises  up  the  cabin  small. 
With  roof  of  thatch,  and  low  mud  'wall. 
The  stagnant  pool  before  the  door, 
The  grunting  pig  upon  the  floor — 

You  know  them,  Biddy  ! 

IT. 

But  far  beyond  the  mud,  and  all, 
I  see  the  mountains  grand  and  tall, 
The  beech  and  hawthorn  in  theii-  bloom — 
The  spot  where  lies  my  mother's  tomb. 
In  Ireland,  Biddy ! 

v. 

Not  over  neat,  my  Irish  girl. 
You  may  seem  to  the  English  churl  ; 
Your  blue  eyes  and  your  coal-black  hair, 
lie  may  not  think  a  couti-ast  fair  ; 
But  I  do,  Biddy  I 


90 


BIDDY. 


VI. 


I  like  the  tender  light  and  shade 
That  blend  in  yoii,  my  pretty  maid  ; 
The  laughter  and  the  tears  in  one, 
The  lovely  brogue  of  richest  tone, 
From  l.dtrim,  Biddy '. 


YII. 


Your  cooking  is  not  good,  they  say, 
And  Britons  can't  endure  your  -way  ; 
You  can't  appreciate  that  art, 
So  dear  to  every  John  Bull's  heart, 
Unhappy  Biddy  I 


vra. 


And  when  my  feelings  oft  arc  hurt 
By  hints  that  you've  no  eye  for  dirt. 
I  answer  back  :  "  Indeed,  may  be  ; 
But  she's  an  ear  for  melody  "— 
Unlike  tliem,  Biddy ! 


IS. 


You're  perverse— so  they  say,  my  girl ; 
'Tis  many  a  charge  at  you  they  huii  ; 
Tum'd  upside  down,  and  here  and  there, 
You'll  never  make  things  neat  and  sciuai 
No  method,  Biddy  ! 


Fertile  your  fancy  in  its  play, 
I've  marvelled  at  it  day  by  day ; 
In  uses  you  for  objects  find, 
For  which  they  never  were  designea— 
Ingenious  Biddy ! 


TRIXITT   WELL.  91 

ZI. 

What  ctiriouf?  tilings  you  sometimes  do  ! 
I  can't  deny  it,  nor  can  you. 
Most  wonderful  it  is,  and  strange 
How  widely  your  inventions  range — 
For  instance,  Biddy : 

XII. 

My  Shakespeare,  bound  in  cloth  of  gold, 
You've  put  the  window  frame  to  hold  ; 
I've  seen  you— still  more  dreadful  trick  !— 
With  bottle  for  a  candlestick, 

Near  curtains,  Biddy  ! 

xra. 
But  with  such  sins  upon  your  part, 
You  keep  the  pure,  proud  Irish  heart ; 
You're  true  to  country  and  to  God, 
As  when  you  walked  your  native  sod — 
My  faithful  Biddy  ! 

XIV. 

The  Queensland  snn  may  leave  its  trace, 
And  Erin's  milky  hue  deface  ; 
But  spot  or  speck  shall  come  in  vain, 
The  whiteness  of  your  soul  to  stain,. 
O  Irish  Biddy  I 


TRINITY     WELL.* 

I. 

DEEP  in  a  lonely,  silent  dell, 
Where  green  leaves  clustering  twine, 
There  is  a  little  holy  well — 
The  peasant's  humble  shrine. 


*  Tho  Holy  Well  here  alluded  Is  Bltuatfd  in  tho  Devil's  Glen,  in  tho  County 
of  Wicklow.  A  largo  ash  tree,  in  thrco  distinct  trunks,  grows  at  tbo  head  of 
the  well— henco  tho  name,  "  Trinity  Well." 


92  TRINITY  ^VELL. 

,  "Within  its  cliarmcd  circle  Ijonncl 

What  cU'carus  and  memories  dwell  ' 
"What  shades  and  echoes  haunt  the  ground 
Aronnd  the  Holy  Well  I 


n. 

How  many  a  wild  and  simple  tale 

The  votive  offerings  breathe, 
Now  idly  flutt<,'rin;^'  in  the  gale 

Those  arching  honghs  beneath  ! 
How  many  a  wears'  hope  and  fear 

That  tongue  may  never  tell 
Have  hovered  o'er  thy  waters  clear. 

Thou  Uttle  Holy  Well ! 

A  gTiarled  ash-tree  droops  above, 

As  pilgrims  watch  and  pray, 
With  lifted  arms  of  reverent  love, 

Trembling,  and  old  and  gray  ; 
Upon  its  seamed  and  rugged  bark 

Loved  names  are  faintly  seen — - 
Bo  faint,  the  eye  can  scarcely  mark 

Through  moss  and  lichens  grcenu 


IV. 

Ah !  thus,  in  sooth,  it  is  with  names 

Once  writ  upon  the  heart, 
.When  Time  brings  forth  new  hopes  and  aims, 

And  bids  the  Past  depart  ; 
Filled  up  with  growth  of  strife  and  care, 

Slow  creeping,  day  by  day. 
The  records  graven  deep  that  were. 

Like  these,  are  worn  away. 


MT  NHL  BAlVy.  W 


0  lovclj',  silent,  crystal  well ! 

Earth's  hopes  and  joys  may  fail  ; 
Bnt  clearer  as  the  mists  dispel 

The  heavenly  dawn  we  hail  ; 
And  hero  within  thy  hallowed  shade, 

'Mid  svimmer  sun  and  balm, 
The  soul's  wild  tumult's  all  are  laid, 

And  we  find  ijeace  and  calm  ! 


MY    NIAL    BAWN. 


HE  has  no  gold  but  the  gold  that  shines 
In  those  bright,  clustering  tresses  ; 
There  is  neither  rank  nor  power  for  him 
"Whom  this  fond  heart  wildly  blesses. 
But,  oh,  there  is  truth  and  pride  and  love 

For  my  Nial's  kingly  dower. 
And  never  was  king  worshipped  like  to  him 
In  the  day  of  his  highest  power. 

n. 

I  have  no  hope  in  the  wide,  wide  world, 

But  all  that's  round  him  clinging  ; 
There's  neither  life  nor  joy  for  me 

Unless  from  his  fondness  springing. 
I  never  think  of  woe  or  pain — 

Sure  this  life  can  bring  no  trial 
When  I  know  bright  angels  could  guard  me  not 

More  tender  and  true  than  Nial ! 


91  THE  SKYLARK  BY  THE  SnANA'OJV 


HI. 


His  soiil  is  soft  as  a  morn  of  May, 

But  strong  as  the  deep,  dark  ocean, 
With  passion  wild  as  the  storm  and  flame 

For  deeds  of  a  high  devotion. 
Oh,  fierce  and  brave  is  my  o^m  dear  love, 

The  wrong  and  the  foe  defying. 
But  low  and  sweet  is  his  voice  to  me, 

Like  the  breezes  of  evening  sighing  ! 


rv. 


Bright  blessings  fall  on  my  Nial  Bawn ' 

Sure  I  know  his  love  outpouring ; 
And  there's  no  joy  on  earth  to  me 

Like  the  joy  of  thus  adoring. 
Oh,  I  have  love— such  deep,  deep  love  !— 

To  fall  in  soft,  freshening  showers. 
That  all  around  will  be  bright  and  green 

Through  Ufe's  long,  golden  hours  ! 


THE    SKYLARK    BY  THE    SHANNON. 


X. 


OBIED  from  the  plume  of  green  rushes 
Exultant  soaring, 
Thy  song-burst  so  fervidly  pouring  ■ 

lu  jubilant  gushes 
To  morning's  first  sweet  maiden  blushes ! 
O  brown  little  Peri,  up-springing  ! 
There  is  surely  a  soul  in  thy  singing. 


IRISn  AUTUMN  EVE.  95 


II. 

My  heart's  wealth  around  theo  art  flinging 

In  showers  of  gladness, 
In  warbUngs  of  ecstatic  madness, 

Tumultuously  ringing, 
In  thine  own  flood  of  harmony  winging — 
Striving  on  wth  that  passionate  i^aining, 
Life  and  love  blent  in  rapturous  straining. 

iir. 

In  a  whirl  of  music  revolving. 

In  circles  enchanted. 
As  if  by  the  Infinite  haunted, 

Thou  seemest  dissolving, 
Those  magical  numbers  evolving. 
Till,  with  spiral  and  quivering  motion, 
Thou  near'st  the  blue,  heavenly  ocean. 

rv. 

O  bird  !  thou  art  floating  and  fading 

On  to  th'  Emi:)yrean  ; 
Through  gold  and  vermilion  and  Tyi-ian 

Dyes  thou  art  wading. 
Till  oometh  the  stillness  and  shading  ; 
And  soon,  mth  tho  spirit  land  blended. 
In  a  voice  and  a  dream  thou  art  ended ! 


IRISH     AUTUMN     EVE. 

I. 

STILL  and  pale,  as  if  in  thought, 
Tlao  lono  eve  droops,  with  sadness  fraught.; 
And  low  clouds  hang  of  gauzy  gray, 
In  phantom  figures  vaguely  wi'ought. 
Dissolving  dreamily  away. 


96  A  WAKiya. 

II. 

The  dead  leaves  all  are  showering  down, 
Yellow  and  red,  and  orange  and  bro^vn — 

They  that  once,  in  tender  green, 
Made  the  summer's  lovely  crown. 

Now  npon  her  grave  are  seen. 

III. 

Low  the  silver-leaved  Abele 
Sweeps  forth  its  foliage  to  the  gale  ; 

Its  snowy  sheen  is  glittering  fair 
Against  ihe  sky,  all  leaden  i^ale. 

And  rings  out  music  soft  and  rare. 

IV. 

Above  the  moxarnful,  silent  globe 
The  sun,  in  faded  saffron  robe, 

Broods  sadly  o'er  the  -wTde  decay  ; 
The  winds  rise  up  with  plaintive  sob, 

Through  tangled  copses  far  away. 

V. 

There  is  a  languid,  drowsy  breath, 
As  of  a  weird,  wild  dream  of  death  ; 

Inert  and  voiceless  lieth  all 
The  rounded  space,  as  if  beneath 

A  sombre,  dense,  funereal  pall. 


AWAKING. 

[feom  the  iBian.] 


1KX0W  it  now,  I  know  it  well, 
The  wave  is  not  more  true 
The  changes  of  the  sky  to  tell 
Than  I  each  change  in  you. 


A  WAKINQ.  97 


Tho  trembling  cliords  within  my  soul 

Eing  out  a  bocliiig  ■svail  ; 
Yet  how  can  love  that  years  have  fed 

In  one  short  moment  fail  ? 


n. 

For  one  false  flash  from  beauty's  eye, 

Tor  one  sweet  syren  tone — 
Ah  !  hast  thy  fate,  then,  fleeted  by  ? 

Thou — thou,  my  loved — mj'  own  ! 
Hast  thou,  indeed,  forgotten  all 

That  vigil  cold  and  long 
Through  -which  we  -watched,  and  -wept,  and  prayed  ? 

This — this  were  bitter  wrong ! 

m. 

Tho  perfumed  play  of  summer  wind 

That  idly  sweeps  the  sea, 
And  recks  not  of  the  treasured  hordes 

That  in  its  depths  may  be  ; 
The  flitting  sunbeam  that  ^vill  smile 

The  trees  and  flowers  upon — 
Such  wilt  thou  find  the  love  that  now 

Thy  heart  from  me  has  won. 

IV- 

I  know  that  she  is  fair  and  young — 

Her  eye  is  bright,  'tis  triic  ; 
Ilcr  cheek  the  rose's  bloom  has  on, 

But  tnxrue,  grew  pale  for  you. 
Hope,  joy  and  youth  have  passed  away, 

The  spirit  light  and  free  ; 
And  dark  and  bitter  is  the  thought 

That  all  is  lost  for  thee. 


08  KOSA^yji-A, 


ROS ANNA  * 


I7AIR  are  the  shades  of  Eosannn, 
'     When  the  stmimer  evenings  fall. 
And  the  heavens  seem  dropping  niauna 

On  those  -n'oodlauds  dai'k  and  tall  ; 
Sweet  is  the  silent  glory 

That  streams  from  the  sunset  sty. 
Through  the  beech-trees  thick  and  hoary, 
Where  the  soft  %viuds  gently  die. 

II. 

Oh,  sadly  the  hours  have  faded 

Since  last  I  looked  on  you  ; 
My  soul  in  grief  is  shaded. 

For  lost  is  its  mission  true. 
Instead  of  the  morning  gladness, 

Now  tempests  and  clouds  arise, 
And  Life  seems  a  dream  of  sadness, 

"SYhere  Hope  in  a  ruin  lies. 

iix. 

Oh,  soft,  bright  woods  of  Kosanna, 

Though  my  tears  should  fall  like  rain, 
Through  no  sorrow  or  yeai-ning  ever 

A  glimpse  of  you  shall  I  gain, 
I  think  of  your  sumn^er's  glowing, 

Of  each  flowery  bank  and  plain. 
Of  your  silvery  streamlets  flowing — 

But — my  longing  is  all  in  vain  ! 

*  A  beautiful  6pot  in  tho  County  Wicklow,  Ireland. 


.       A  DREAM  OF  A  DREAM.  99 

A     DREAM     OF     A     DREAM. 

[FBOM  THE   miBH]. 


Oil,  but  for  a  moment  only,  and  never  and  never  more, 
To  sit  in  tlaine  eyes'  glad  sunlight,  my  treasure  of  love  to 
pour  ; 
To  breathe  it  in  broken  murmurs  of  rapture  and  Mild  despair, 
Ere  its  song  and  its  joy,  for  ever,  are  drunk  by  the  empty  air  ! 


The  Voice  of  my  Dreams  is  dying,  so  mournfully,  day  by  day. 
Like  the  sound  of  those  distant  waters  that  glide  from  the  earth 

away. 
Ah  !   faint  as  the  faiut  bells  ringing,  in  silence  within  the  ear  ! 
And  dim  as  the  wavering  moonbeam  the  hopes  of  my  life  appear. 

m. 

The    spell    of    the    Minstrel's    Clairseach,   his  power   and    his 

visions — aU 
To  the  winds  of  the  dreary  Winter  in  stillness  and  son-ow  fall  ; 
Pass  out  in  this  tearful  sighing — those  throbs  of  a  heart  that 

ne'er 
Knew  glory,   or  woe,   or  gladness,   save  that  which  thy  love 


brought  there  I 


rv. 


Oh,  to  tell  thee  the  weary  longing,  like  wild  bird,  in  my  breast, 
That  flies  through  the  night  and  morning,  yet  knows  not  a  place 
of  rest — 

To  whisper  thee,  sad  and  lowly,  how  dark  is  the  world  and  cold. 
And  hear  thee  but  give  me,  dearest,  one  word  like  the  words  of 
old! 


100  WITT  I  SJN0. 

V. 

Si:ro  the  sun  falls  in  sliadows  only,  since  the  hour  you  were  torn 

from  mo  ; 
No  flower  in  my  breast  hasblossom'd — ah,  never,  asthore  niachree  ! 
No  eye  has  shed  joy  upon  me — no  heart  warm'd  mine  within  : 
The  cold  spot  my  bosom  chiUing  is  cold  at  this  hour  as  then  ! 

TI. 

Come  !   come !  can  this  deep  devotion  I  pour  from  my  soul  to 

thee 
Not  triumph  o'er  all,  this  moment,  that  severs  thee  far  from  me  ? 
Vain,  vain  !     O'er  the  troubled  waters  there  cometh  no  word  or 

sign- 
No  voice  comes  with  answering  power — The  dream  of  a  dream  is 

mine ! 


WHY     I      SING. 
I. 

I  SING,  I  sing  in  many  a  strain, 
But  whence  my  song  I  cannot  tell  ; 
I  sing  in  gladness  or  in  pain. 

But  know  not  whence  the  spell. 
Why  chirps  the  bird  upon  the  tree  ? 

Why  moans  the  wind  in  passing  by  ? 
If  they  can  tell  thtjir  art  to  ye. 
Why,  freely,  so  will  I. 

n. 

The  spray  bounds  upward  to  the  sun, 

The  j-oung,  green  leaves  will  bud  and  blow, 
The  birds  and  I  are  singing  on, 

And — that  is  all  I  know  ! 
But  ceaseless,  ever,  as  the  stream, 

Th(.'  little  pipe  plays  humbly  on, 
In  broken  word  or  shapeless  dream 

Unlil  the  restless  soul  is  flown  ! 


THE  NEW  TIME.  101 


THE     NEW     TIME. 

THE  Icey-noto  is  struck  of  anollier  time, 
And  vocul  is  earth  with  the  strain  sublime. 
On  throiigh  the  Universe,  lo  !   it  is  steahng, 
With  resonant  rythm  that  music  is  pealing  ; 
Through  worlds  above,  and  through  worlds  below, 
Through  waves  that  glide,  and  through  stars  that  glow  ; 
O'er  wood  and  wild,  o'er  plain  and  hill, 
Louder  and  clearer  those  sweet  tones  thrill — 
Through  thoiisand  hearts  that  before  were  dumb, 
And  heard  but  the  faint  and  the  inward  hum 
Of  the  glorious  time,  of  the  golden  time, 
"When  Truth  shall  reign  in  its  royal  prime  ; 
"When  Life  shall  not  be  a  skeleton  thing, 
Cut  quick  with  the  breath  of  a  verdant  spring  ; 
And  the  worn-out  shell  of  this  social  frame 
Shall  crumble  for  aye  in  the  living  flame. 
That  gannent  already  so  worn  and  old, 
Is  di"opping  and  mouldering  fold  on  fold  ; 
And  looking  within  I  can  well  discern 
The  hea\'ing  and  flushing  of  life  return. 
"Wave  upon  wave  rushes  on  to  the  shore, 
"With  a  cresting  foam  and  resounding  roar  ; 
And  I  see  the  signs  as  of  meteors  bright, 
Far  off  in  the  laud  of  the  second-sight. 

The  trance  is  broken,  the  word  is  spoken. 
The  real  and  true  are  at  last  awoken  ; 
Drain  not  the  dregs  of  the  present  and  past. 
On  to  the  future  untrodden  and  vast ! 
The  mind-world  yet  has  a  glorious  hoard, 
"With  wealth  unthought  of  richly  stor'd  ; 
Fair  wonders  still  hath  that  boundless  realm, 
But  great  the  hand  that  must  guide  the  helm. 


103  TBE  NEW  TIME. 

Who  dreamed  of  that  world  so  long  unknown, 
"Which  the  eye  of  the  Genoese  sought  alone  ? 
We  know  not  all  that  may  yet  be  ours, 
"We  know  not  the  depth  of  our  gifts  and  pow'rs  ; 
'Tis  not  that  a  thing  is  beyond  our  might, 
But  beyond  our  ken— and  if  sought  aright 
"We  conquer  and  win  ;  for  the  brave  and  true 
Must  find  the  way  to  the  deed  in  view. 
There's  science  more  grand  than  to  reach  the  stars, 
And  make  for  yourselves  triumphal  cars, 
To  raise  the  pjTramid— lay  the  plinth, 
Or  delve  and  wind  through  the  labyrinth. 
Soar  not,  ye  wise,  to  the  seventh  heaven. 
To  leave  to  its  weakness  this  mortal  leaven  ! 
That  knowledge,  the  chiefest,  the  holiest  should 
Be  to  teach  your  kind  to  grow  happy  and  good  I 
Call  not  the  voice  of  the  Time  a  dream- 
Though  effete  and  hollow  the  world  you  deem  ; 
•Tis  the  self-same  sphere  that  in  gladness  first 
From  the  hand  of  the  great  Creator  burst ; 
The  golden  sun  beams  out  as  brightly, 
The  laughing  rivers  dance  as  lightly. 
The  crimson  fruit,  and  the  clust'ring  flowers, 
Spring  and  bloom  in  as  plenteous  showers ; 
The  brain  of  man  is  the  same  as  of  old. 
His  heart  is  cast  in  the  primal  mould, 
The  great  and  the  beautiful  still  are  here, 
Though  temples  nor  colmnns  to  them  wo  rear. 

Are  not  love  and  hope,  and  faith  and  glory 

The  same  to-day  as  they  shine  in  story  ? 

As  the  sap  through  the  trees,  as  the  blood  through  our 

veins, 
Boundingly  old  romance  still  reigns, 
Living  and  moving  around  us  still. 
Noiseless  and  swift  as  a  hidden  rill ; 


TEARS.  '  103 

Silently,  silcntlj%  speeding  along, 
A  benutifiil  form  vnih.  tuneless  tongue. 
Her  priests  and  her  votaries  silent  all, 
Silent  she  glides  through  her  palace  hall ; 
But  the  thoughtful  list  to  her  low  foot-fall — 
And  hang  enwrapjj'd  on  her  musical  sobs. 
And  feel  her  heart  with  its  burning  throbs. 

'  On,  still  on,  through  our  daily  life. 
Though  -warp'd  and  stained  by  deceit  and  strife. 
And  habit  that  lends  its  conquering  might 
To  weave  a  web  like  the  garb  of  Night, 
And  strikes  its  roots  in  the  mental  soil, 
Knotted  and  tangled  to  blight  and  foiL 
But  are  there  aiot  some  with  the  might  to-da,y. 
To  rend  the  enchantment  dark  away  ? 
That  so  the  hour  at  last  shall  rise. 
Immortal  and  glorious  as  Christ  to  the  skies  ! 
The  great  re;vction  grand  and  holy. 
It  comcth  sure,  though  it  cometh  slowly. 
For  through  we;jiness  and  falsehood,  and  cant  together. 
The  well-springs  of  life  aru  .as  deep  as  ever. 


TEARS. 


DEOP  down,  ye  hot  and  lalistering  tears— 
A  poison-torrent  from  the  brain — 
Ye  tell  not  now  of  grief  or  fears, 

Nor  wild  and  frantic  x>ain  ; 
Ye  fall  but  as  the  icy  rain. 
Despair  pours  out  in  vain. — 

Drop !  di'op ! 


104  IDLE  WORDS. 

II. 
They  pass  a-w'ay  in  that  wild  shower, 

Tho  cherished  Oieams  of  many  a  clay— 
The  glowing  throbs  of  Life's  young  hour. 

All,  all  are  iwured  away, 
And  life  is  now  but  dross  and  clay— 
A  twiUght  cold  and  gray- 
Drop  !  drop ! 

m. 
Pour  down  !— yo  bear  within  ye  far 

Moro  priceless  things  than  pearls  or  gold— 
The  glories  of  the  iloming  Star, 

The  bm-ning  hopes  of  old— 
Ye  bear  them  down  unto  the  mould 
To  perish,  pale  and  cold, 

Drop !   drop ! 

IV. 

Hopes,  memories,  dreams-all,  all  arc  there. 
And  agony  that  none  may  know 
'  Transmuted  to  the  fell  despair 

That  crouches  faint  and  low. 
That  thints  not,  breathes  not  in  the  throe 
Of  this  dai-k  torrent  How. 

Drop!  drop! 


IDLE     WORDS. 


I. 


THEEE  is  a  mockery  in  those  words 
That  strive  with  accents  faint  and  broken,. 
From  out  the  heart's  ruined,  broken  chords, 
To  speak  of  that,  the  all-ui>spoken  » 


THE  LOST  SUMMER.  Mj 

II  is  a  moctery — ay  !  no  more — 

And  passion  laughs  the  laugh  of  madness 

At  that  faiut  voice  which  o'er  and  o'er 
Sinks  like  the  wind  to  moaning  sadness  ! 

n. 
I  look  upon  thee,  mute  and  cold, 

Nor  writhiug  pulse,  nor  hot  vein  swcllingj. 
Nor  burning  tear  oixnst  thou  behold 

Th:it  inward  tale  of  frenzy  telling. 
It  is  the  cold  and  fearful  doom. 

Of  one  npon  the  death-bier  lying, 
Bound  in  the  chain  of  tranced  gloom. 

For  word  or  murmur  vainly  trying  ! 


5* 


THE    LOST    SUMMER. 

T. 

I  SOUGHT  a  summer  that  I  kne-w, 
Some  time  in  those  far  distant  years. 
On  spirit  -vring  away  that  flow. 

With  all  its  wealth  of  smiles  and  tears, 
"With  all  its  roses  glowing  red. 

The  lovehest  that  ever  blew — 
Ah  !   is  it  lost,  or  is  it  dead  ? 
No  more  111  see  it  bloom  anew, 

IL 

I  sought  ft  Love  that  once  was  true 

And  fervent  as  the  skies  of  June  : 
It  bathed  the  world  in  light  and  dew  ; 

It  was  Life's  star  and  sun  and  moon. 
Oh,  weary  search,  oh,  stinging  pain  ! 

The  summer  that  so  long  hath  fled 
"Will  come  to  me  as  soon  again 

As  that  lost  love,  so  cold  and  dead ! 


106-  THE  LEGEND   OF  rOUL-NADnOUL. 


THE    LEGEND    OF    POUL-NA-DIIOUL. 


TTNDER  the  base  of  the  hill  it  stood, 
A.  deep,  black  pool  Mathiu  the  wood — 
Itow  deep  ?"  some  whispered.     Shuddering  came 
The  answer  :  "  Near  to  Hell's  own  flame  !" 


u 


II. 


It  was  a  spot,  this  Ponl-na-Dhovil, 
Meet  for  the  haunt  of  ghost  or  ghoul ; 
The  trees  that  grew  beside  it,  drear. 
Seemed  blue  and  cold,  as  if  with  fear. 


III. 


The  kites  and  ravens  loved  its  gloom. 
And  shrieked  and  croaked  as  round  a  tomb  ; 
And  sometimes  came  the  bat  and  owl 
To  seek  the  shades  of  Poul-ua-Dhoul. 


•IV, 


One  winter  night,  as  cold  as  lead— 
The  moon  and  stars  might  all  be  dead, 
So  ghastly  seemed  the  scene  and  hour— 
"When,  from  the  fair,  came  Testy  Power. 


V. 


In  truth,  poor  Festy  was  no  saint— 
His  name  was  not  without  a  taint ; 
And  from  the  altar,  it  is  said, 
His  name  full  often  had  been  read. 


TZZB  LEGEND  OF  POUL-NA-DHOUL.  107 


■VI. 


Now,  this  same  year,  I  heard  it  told. 
Ho  was  outside  the  Christian  fold  ; 
His  Easter  duty  with  neglect 
He'd  treated,  and  but  httle  recked. 


vn. 


That  night,  with  other  godless  chaps, 
He'd  had  a  little  drop,  perhaps  : 
And  so  no  thought  of  fear  had  he, 
Though  near  the  spot  he  came  to  be. 


vm. 


How  strange  it  was  that,  ringing  here, 
He  heard  the  sounds  of  festive  cheer  ; 
And,  lo  !  before  him,  fair  and  grand, 
A  stately  mansion  there  did  stand. 


TX. 


It  rang  with  mirth,  it  blazed  with  light. 
And  music  lent  its  full  dehght ; 
iVnd  guests  were  seen  in  bright  array 
Within  those  halls  so  hght  and  gay. 


X. 


As  Fcsty  stood  in  wonder  lost. 

Came  forth  the  hospitable  host. 

And,  with  most  cordial  greetiug,  said  : 

"  Why,  Festy,  come  and  join  the  spread." 


zi. 


"  We've  been  expecting  you  so  long 
To-night  to  swell  the  merry  throng  ! 
Now,  do  come  in  !   I  pray  you,  do  I" 
And  then  he  gave  a  pull  or  two. 


108  THE  LEGEND  OF  POUL-NA-DHOUL. 

XII. 
But  Festy,  somehow,  did  not  feel 
Eesponsive  to  his  host's  appeal : 
He  was  afraid — he,  once  so  bold — • 
He  felt  his  very  blood  run  cold  ! 

Xin. 

And  -why  should  he  be  of  this  mind  ? 
The  gentleman  was  very  kind  ! 
Although  his  countenance,  'tis  true. 
Did  look  a  little  dark  of  hue. 

XIV. 

He  couldn't  teU  '.—but  more  and  more 
He  grew  to  dread  that  open  door  ; 
And  more  and  more  determined  grew 
The  gentleman  of  foreign  hue. 

XV. 

He  drew  young  Festy  onward  still, 
Most  terribly  against  his  will  ; 
But,  though  he  struggled  might  and  main, 
His  host  did  the  advantage  gain. 

XVI. 

And  on  the  threshold  soon  ho  stood  ; 

His  strength  was  gone— he  knew  he  should- 

But  all  at  once  aloud  ho  cried, 

"  Brotcct  me,  God,  for  me  that  died  !" — 

XVII. 

When  vanished  all  the  brilliant  show. 
The  laughing  guests,  the  lamplight's  glow. 
The  stately  house,  the  dark-browtd  host. 
The  midnight  vision — all  was  lost ! 


NATIVE   THOUGHTS.     '  If 9 

xvm. 
And  thoro,  upon  the  very  brink 
Of  Poiil-na-Dhoul,  as  black  as  ink, 
Upon  that  lonely  midnight  hour, 
With  quivering  fear,  stood  Festy  Power  ! 

XIX. 

But  from  that  time,  w-ithin  the  man, 
A  wondrous  change,  they  say,  began  : 
No  more  the  ways  of  sin  he  trod, 
But  henceforth  ever  walked  with  God  I 


NATIVE     THOUGHTS. 

I. 

THE  ways  of  the  cold-tongued  stranger,  I  see  them  in  hut  and 
haU, 
They  fall  like  a  cloud  of  darkness,  those  marks  of  a  bitter  thrall. 
Where  now  are  the  native  features,  so  well  and  so  widely  known — 
The  noble  and  polished  grandeur  of  a  nation  ui^on  her  throne  ? 

II. 

Mine  eyes  seek,  in  heavy  sorrow,  the  tower-crowned  halls  of  yore, 
I  see  the  proud,  regal  chieftains  that  Asio)i?i*  and  FaUioig^  wore; 
I  hear  that  sweet  tongue  of  music,  of  love  and  of  grace  so  rare, 
I  look  on  the  scene  ax'ound  me,  and  the  Sassenach  gloom  is  there  ! 

m. 
And,  oh,  for  the  sweet-strung  clairseach,   'neath  the  minstrel's 

cunning  hand, 
"With  the  small  wires  tinkling  iinder  the  bass  in  its  deep  notes 

grand!"  t 
And  the  portals  of  court  and  castle  flung  open  for  song  and  cheer, 
W'here  the  poor  and  the  stranger  ever  a  welcome  were  sure  to 

hear ! 

*  The  Irish  crown,     f  The  mantle. 

+  Tho  description  given  by  Giraldus  Cambrensis  of  the  Irish  minstrel's 
harp-playiug. 


110  J^O   MOKE. 


IV. 


Tb3  glory  of  Ollamh  Foclhla,  bravo  Datlii's  \Yarrior  might, 
Our  heroes  of  Christian  ages,  in  council,  and  court,  and  fight — 
All,  all  that  was  precious  left  us,  the  signs  of  our  ancient  race. 
Has  it  been  from  our  memory  blotted  by  a  conqueror's  ruthless 
trace  ? 

V. 

Oh,  no  !   o'er  the  greensward  rolling  the  flood  may  be  darkly 

seen, 
But  beneath  it  all,  fresh  and  glowing,  is  living  the  beauteous 

green. 
Soon,  soon  shall  the  rushing  torrent  of  wrong  and  oppression 

cease, 
And  the  dove,  o'er  the  wave  rclurning,  proclaim  the  sweet  words 

of  peace  1 


NO    MORE. 


I 


WATCH  the  dead  leaf  fluttering,  and  I  watch  the  sunset  sky, 
But  if  I  watched  from  morn  till  eve,  I'd  never  see  you  nigh. 

Oh,  no  !  oh,  no !  if  I  looked  for  aye, 

I'd  never  see  you  in  the  night  or  day. 


n. 

I'll  see  the  river  gliding  by,  and  I'll  see  the  mountains  tall, 
And  the  lonely  glen  where  the  trees  are  green,  and  the  wavering 
shadows  full ; 

But  while  rivers  run,  or  while  green  leaves  grow, 

I'll  never  see  you  again,  I  know ! 


THE   UNSPOKEN.  HI 

ni. 
I'll  look  o'er  hill,  and  heath,  and  moor,  on  tho  misty  skies  and 

streams, 
Flittiug  Leforc  my  weary  eyes,  like  a  'wildering  dance  of  dreams  ; 
But  long  and  -weary  my  watch  shall  be, 
Before  a  glimpse  of  your  face  I'U  see. 

}  IV. 

'  Years  on  years  are  rolling  on,  and  there  through  the  live-long 

day, 
With  dimming  sight  I  muse  alone,  till  my  gold  locks  turn  to 

gi-ey— 
But,  no  !  oh,  no  !  look  where  I  will. 
In  no  place  but  my  heart  shall  I  find  you  still ! 


THE     UNSPOKEN. 

I. 

THOUGH  mine  eyes  should  gaze  for  ever 
"With  that  longing  wild  above, 
Overflowing  like  a  river, 

From  my  heart's  deep  fount  of  love. 
Though  I  should  gaze  for  aye  on  thee. 

Life  and  love  exhaling. 
Yet  still  mine  eyes  unfilled  would  be, 
And  gaze  on  thee  unfailing. 

n. 

Though  I  shoiild  tell  thee  over,  over, 

All  the  fondness  of  my  soul — 
Yet  would  its  shrine  still  something  cover 

More  precious  than  the  whole. 
Though  I  should  speak  again — again, 

Until  my  heart  were  broken, 
The  tniest  word  would  still  remain. 

In  that  which  is  unspoken  I 


lia  AN  OLD  STORT. 


AN      OLD      STORY. 


U    1  S  old  as  the  hills,"  yet  as  green  and  youug, 

^V  And  still  to  be  wpoken  and  A\Titten  and  sung, 
While  ever  remaiueth  a  pen  or  a  tongue, 

They'll  tell  you  the  olden  story  : 


II. 

How  two  have  loved  in  this  world  below, 

With  the  freshness  and  fervor  of  morning's  glow, 

Each  unto  each  a  world,  although 

A  world  there  was  between  them. 


III. 

How  they  know  not  or  heed  not  the  fate  to  bo, 

But  walk  in  a  maze  and  a  mystery, 

Nor  trouble,  nor  darkness,  nor  destiny  see, 

So  strong  is  the  spell  around  them. 

IV. 

Unmindiug  the  talk  of  the  cold  and  the  wise. 
While  they  look  in  the  depth  of  each  others'  eyes, 
For  hidden  is  there  all  the  wealth  they  jn'ize. 
And  they  know  it  will  shine  forever. 


It  may  be  a  love  all  too  pure  and  rare 

To  be  happy  or  blest  in  this  world  of  care, 

Meet  only  to  liloom  in  the  perfumed  air. 

Where  the  Brahmin's  blue  flower. is  springing. 


AN  OLD  STORT.  113 


TI, 


But  bliimo  ihcm  not,  for  a  fairy  hand 
Has  Btrickcn  tbein  both  ATith  a  magic  wand, 
And  together  they  walk  iu  enchanted  kind, 
Far,  far  from  all  mortal  soiTOW. 


TII. 


There  boameth  the  light  of  a  golden  dream, 

An-1  there's  melody  bubbling  from  sky  and  stream, 

And  the  moon  and  the  stars  have  a  weird-like  beam. 

Since  the  hour  when  their  love  was  spoken. 


Tni. 


The  voice  of  the  bird  has  a  deeper  strain, 
There's  an  emerald  glow  over  mount  and  plain, 
And  through  all  the  earlh  runs  a  silvery  vein 
Of  glory  and  love  and  beauty. 


IX. 


The  breath  of  the  gorgeous  and  perfumed  .Jimo 
Sings,  panting  Avildly,  a  passionate  tune, 
And  whispers  sweet  thoughts  <o  the  night  and  the  moon. 
As  it  sinks  to  its  loving  slumbers. 


And  every  blossom  and  bud  and  bell 
Has  each  a  story  of  joy  to  tell. 
That  fills  the  breeze  with  a  gladsome  swell, 
And  maketh  the  daylight  softer. 

SI. 

And  they,  the  dreamers  each  day  and  honr, 
Their  souls  unfold  to  that  mystic  power ; 
Entranc'd  and  rapt,  to  the  skits  they  soar, 
And  Usten  to  angel  numbers. 


114  PARTING    WORDS. 


XII. 


Life  is  not  life  as  it  was  of  yore — 

IIow  cold  and  dull  seems  the  time  that's  o'er— 

"UndiDc"  a  poet's  dream  no  more, 

But  reality,  happy  and  glorious. 


xni. 


Then,  how  can  they  deem  their  love  untold, 
Not  far  more  precious  than  silver  or  gold  ? 
It  must  be  now  as  it  was  of  old. 

If  you  think — it  will  seem  no  wonder. 


xrv. 


Oh,  marvel  not  that  thy  wisdom  ne'er 
Can  have  power  to  banish  that  vision  fair ; 
That  it  could  be  so,  sure  the  marvel  were— 
Is  not  this  a  very  old  story  ? 


PARTING     WORDS. 


TTTHE^  "^11  y^  <^''™^  afjain  ? 
y  Y    The  weary  hours  will  fall, 
And  'tis  by  the  beating  of  my  heart 

That  I  will  count  them  all — 
By  the  beating  of  my  hoiirt, 

And  the  dropping  of  my  tears, 
Through  the  dreary  day,  and  the  lonely  night, 

And  the  long  and  lonely  yeais. 


THE  VOICE  OF  TEE  RUER.  US 

n. 

Why  did  you  stay  so  long  ? 

Or  I  shoiild  never  bo 
Thus  clinging  to  you,  as  the  moss 

Is  wreathed  around  the  tree — 
Thus  breathing  in  your  breath, 

Thus  fading  when  you  go, 
Forgetting  e'en  my  love  and  joy 

In  my  dark  and  dreary  woe. 

m. 

You  came  to  win  my  heart. 

You  stayed  to  gain  my  troth, 
I  never  dreamed  a  parting  hour  . 

So  woful  for  us  both. 
Oh,  bitter,  bitter  arc  my  tears ! 

Adieu,  my  darling  one  : 
What  shall  I  do  this  dreary  hour, 

When  I  feel  that  you  are  gone  ? 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    RIVER. 


EVER,  and  ever,  with  a  voice  of  sighing, 
Hui-riod  the  -n-ild  wave  from  the  light  away, 
Onward  to  moiarnful  darkness  faintly  flying. 
Far  from  the  glory  of  its  life's  young  day. 
Ever  and  ever  camo  that  voice  of  sighing, 

Swelling  the  breezes  with  its  murmurs  low— 
The  last  faint  murmiirs  that  are  heard  in  dying. 
From  those  who  leave  the  loved  on  earth  below. 


116  "L.  L." 

U. 

Ever  and  ever,  from  that  dim,  cold  charncl. 

Bearing  its  memories  deep  of  joy  and  woe, 
Tliroiigh  time  and  cliaugo,  unchanging  and  eternal. 

Ceaseless  those  wailing  tones  are  heard  to  flow — 
"Farewell!   farewell!   in  all  its  wanderings  lonely, 

"Wilt  thou  not  hear  this  sad  voice  o'er  and  o'er, 
Ever  and  ever  murmm.iug — ^Ijreathing  only 

Of  love  that  lives  and  moui-ns  for  evermore  !" 


"L.     L."* 


I. 

I'lAR  off  !   far  off  !  -within  the  desert  rudo 
^    In  the  cold  heart  of  that  deep  solitude. 
Two  magic  letters  on  tho  nagged  bark, 
"With  touching  memory  on  that  pathway  dark, 
The  wanderer's  footsteps  tenderly  still  mark. 

II. 

Tho  mosses,  clustering,  grew  not  to  efface — 
But  crept  along  in  melancholy  grace  ; 
And  mado  tho  outline  of  the  letters  dear, 
Unto  tho  eager  eyes  morn  tiiie  and  clear. 
Through  all  the  tumult  of  our  hojio  and  fear. 

HI. 

Along  that  pathway  sterile,  lone  and  grey — 
We  follow,  still,  where'er  they  point  the  way  ; 
And  ever  still,  before  our  longing  eyes, 
Wc  see  the  whitening  of  tho  dawn  arise, 
And  hear  tho  whisper  of  a  glad  surprise. 

*  I:i  tho  Br.-.rdi  for  Loicliharrtt,  one  of  tho  explorers  of  tho  Australian  Con« 
tiiiciit,  tievcral  trees  were  found  bearing  tho  initials  of  hia  no,nie,  "  L.  L." 


THE  AGE'S   TEACHERS.  117 

IV. 

All !   moiirnful  letters— who  may  now  divine 
The  unspoken  tale  of  which  you  arc  the  sign  ? 
"i'ou  hold  it  in  your  keeping,  graven  deep  ; 
And  men  conjecturing,  perchance,  may  weep — 
But  it  is  locked,  for  aye,  in  deathly  sleep  ! 

T, 

"L.  L.!"     Alas!  for  those  dark,  weary  days, 
•  With  failing  footsteps  toiling  through  the  maze — 
The  lonely  anguish  of  a  hero  soul, 
Bent  'neath  the  burthen  of  a  heavy  dole, 
Yet  ever  struggling  forward  to  the  goal ! 

VI. 

Beloved  letters  !  not  that  desert  tree 
Alone  shall  keep  a  record  fond  of  thee— 
A  nation,  treasuring  its  precious  lore, 
Shall  have  thee  graven  deep  for  evermore, 
"With  mournful  pride,  upon  its  inmost  core. 


THE     AGE'S     TEACHERS 

I. 

MEN  of  the  mind-world, 
Earnest  are  we. 
For  the  words  wind-hurl'd, 

Spoken  by  ye. 
Casting  off  lacguor, 
Comes  the  wild  clangor, 
Toned  as  the  sea. 

n. 

True  are  ye  sounding 
The  chords  of  the  hour. 

Loudly  resounding 
With  grandeur  and  power. 


118  THE  AGE'S   TEACHERS. 

Well  have  you  learned, 
Wisely  discerned, 
Changes  that  lower. 

'  III. 

So  "hugely  unreal," 
The  world  and  its  creed — 

Tmith  seems  an  ideal 
To  treat  with  unheed. 

Base  "  falsehoods  ■  ■  insidious, 

And  "mockeries"  hideous, 
The  multitude  lead. 

IV. 

High,  zealous  and  solemn. 
Your  preaching  so  bold  ; 

"  Seize  pillar  and  column. 
The  temples  that  hold  ; 

And  valiantly  cover, 

In  ruins  for  ever, 
The  'Mammon'  of  old." 

V. 

When  trampled  were  error. 

Can  you  who  destroy, 
From  ruin  and  terror, 

Kaiso  order  and  joy  ? 
Is  thine  the  commission. 
The  serious  mission. 

To  do  as  destroy  ? 

TI. 

The  which  of  you,  standing, 
O'er  chaos  and  night. 

Can,  God-like,  commanding. 
Say  "  Let  there  be  light." 

The  which  of  you,  ending 

The  system  of  rending, 
Can  build  up  the  Eight  ? 


JKIiVG'  LABHRADH'S  EARS.  119 

KING     LABHRADH'S*     EARS. 

[rOUHDED  ON  AN  INCIDENT  IN  THE  mSTOEY  OF  ANCIENT  IRELAND.] 

ONCE  on  a  time  there  reigned  in  Eire, 
A  luiglity  King  whose  name  was  Laire, 
A  monarch  truly  grand  and  royal, 
"With  subjects  most  intensely  loyal. 
'    They  must  have  been,  for  truly  ho 
Did  sorely  try  their  loyalty. 
His  Majesty,  as  it  appears, 
Was  furnished  with  most  curious  ears : 
The  fact,  alas!   we  can't  dissemble, 
Those  of  an  ass  they  did  resemble. 
King  Laire,  naturally,  tried 
This  blemish  fn)m  his  Court  to  hide, 
And  therefore  hit  upon  the  trick 
To  wear  his  hair  both  long  and  thick  ; 
But  when  the  growth  was  ovemiuch, 
Perforce,  he  sought  the  barber's  touch. 
The  royal  hair  must  know  the  scissors, 
Or  else  be  hke  to  Nabuchadnezzar's. 
Once  in  the  year  it  trimming  needed. 
And,  oh,  how  much  that  time  was  dreaded  I 
For  when  the  process  was  completed 
The  barber's  wages  then  were  meted. 
After  the  final  snip  he  gave 
Ho  was  conducted  to  his  grave — 
To  have  the  secret  safely  buried, 
That  so  the  king  might  not  bo  worried ! 

The  barber's  post,  it  should  be  noted, 
By  lot  each  year  was  always  voted, 
And  now  unto  the  fatal  dictum 
A  \\'idow's  only  son  fell  victim. 


♦PrououDced  "Laire," 


120  KI^'^G  LABBRADirS  EARS. 

Theu  rushed  the  mother,  wildly  shrieking, 

An  iuicaence  at  the  palace  seeking, 

In  hopes  the  king  might  grant  her  prayer, 

The  i^roi)  of  her  old  age  to  spare. 

Kow,  pit3"ing  her  sad  condition, 

The  guards  allowed  her  free  admission, 

And  at  the  Monarch's  gi*acious  feet 

She  humbly  sued  for  mercy  sweet. 

His  heai-t  was  touched,  her  pleadings  heard, 

And  then  he  jDledged  his  royal  word 

The  young  man's  life  should  be  preserved, 

If  he  the  promise  well  obsei-ved 

To  keep  the  secret  he  should  learn 

"Within  his  bosom  strict  and  stern. 

If  e'er  to  mortal  ear  revealed, 

"Why,  then,  his  doom  at  onco  was  sealed  ! 

With  joyful  heart  the  youth  accepted 
The  easy  bargain — and  he  kept  it. 
Although  he  marveled  much  and  long. 
Ho  managed  still  to  hold  his  tongue  ; 
But  when  seme  little  time  had  passed, 
Poor  boy*!  the  burthen  on  him  i^rcssed — 
The  burthen  of  that  secret  queer, 
'Till  he  to  death  was  very  near. 
His  mother,  sad  and  sore-perplexed. 
Considered  what  she  should  do  next ; 
And  then  decided  to  consult 
A  Druid  versed  in  arts  occult. 
Within  the  space  of  half  a  minute, 
Tho  wise  old  man  told  what  was  in  it. 
And  said  :  "  Tho  youth  is  slowly  dying, 
'Cause  something  on  his  mind  is  lying  : 
If  ho  his  bosom  can't  disbuiiheu 
Tho  '  Leech's '  art  can  do  no  more  then  I" 
Now,  this  was  hard,  for  either  way 
Condemned  to  death  the  patient  lay. 


KING  LABHRADH'S  EAEfi  121 

Unto  that  sage,  in  -wisdom  hoary, 
The  sorrowing  mother  told  her  story, 
And  wept  and  wailed  iu  bitter  grief, 
Despairing  now  of  all  relief. 

But  comfort  came:  the  Druid  kind 
Said  :  "We  a,  compromise  may  find 
Whereby  all  consequences  bad 
Maj'  be  avoided  by  the  lad. 
'Tis  true  he  can't,  on  pain  of  death. 
Reveal  the  secret  that  he  hath 
To  mortal  ear — and  there's  the  fix  ! 
By  keeping  it  he'll  cross  the  Stj^x. 
Now,  here  io  what  I  would  propose, 
To  remedy  those  serious  woes  : 
Without  delay  the  patient  should 
Proceed  unto  a  neighboring  wood. 
And  where  four  highwaj's  meeting  stand 
Tui-n  round  and  walk  to  his  right  hand, 
Then,  to  the  tree  that  first  will  grow, 
Whisper  that  secret  soft  and  low." 

The  sage's  counsel,  to  the  letter. 

Was  followed,  and  the  youth  grew  better-'- 

A  willow  tree  had,  word  for  word. 

The  dangerous  secret  from  him  heard  I 

It  was  soon  after  these  events 
That,  in  the  ways  of  Providence, 
The  King's  musician— Craftine  named — 
For  highest  skill  most  justly  famed. 
Having  hid  old  harp  broken,  went 
To  make  another  instrument. 
Where  should  he,  of  all  places,  go 
But  to  that  very  wood,  you  know  ! 
And  choose  the  self-same  willow  tree 
That  held  the  whispered  mystery  ! 


122  KIXG  LABURADH'S  EARS. 

Home  did  he  then  the  timber  take, 

And  straight  of  it  a  clairseach  make, 

But,  when  'twas  fashioned,  strung  and  tuned, 

One  only  strain  it  ever  crooned — 

One  only  strain,  that  said,  alas  ! 

"King  Laire's  ears  are  those  of  an  ass  !" 

"  King  Laire's  ears  are  those  of  an  ass  !" 

"King  Laire's  ears  are  those  of  an  ass  !" 

Quite  thunderstruck,  as  well  he  might. 

Grew  Craftine.     Could  he  hear  aiight  ? 

He  brought  his  brother  hai'pers  round  ; 

They  touched  the  stiings,  but  not  a  sound 

From  any  hand  but  these  would  pass  ; 

"King  Laire's  ears  are  those  of  an  ass  I" 

Now,  far  and  wide  did  spread  the  tale. 

To  reach  the  King  it  did  not  fail ; 

And,  sending  for  the  minstrel,  he 

Desired  the  famous  harp  to  see. 

Commanding  that  it  should  be  i:)layed. 

That  he  might  hear  the  words  it  said. 

Craftine  obeyed.     The  strings  awoke, 

And  forth  the  fatal  secret  broke  ! 

His  Majesty  now  saw  his  error, 

And  nearly  swooned  with  shame  and  terror. 

Ho  said:   "  I  know  that  Heaven  has  sent 

On  me  this  bitter  punishment. 

For  all  the  crimes  my  guilty  pride 

Has  wrought !" — and  here  the  Monarch  sighed. 

"  I  know  I've  no  excuse  to  offer 

For  all  I've  made  my  subjects  suffer ; 

My  locks  no  more  shall  fall  below — 

Thoso  cars,  henceforth,  I'll  freely  show; 

Exposed  before  you  they  bhall  be, 

So  far's  my  crown  may  let  you  see  !" 

Cbaftes-e,  (Aside)  : 
"A  crown,  indeed,  is  much  the  surest  cover 
To  hide  an  ass's  ears  the  world  all  over  !" 


STRIPES  AND  STARS.  123 


STRIPES     AND     STARS. 

1. 

A'  BLUFF  John  Bull  upon  a  tour, 
Came  to  America, 
And,  meeting  there  an  Irish  boor, 
.     With  covei-t  sneer  did  say  : 
"Now,  Paddy,  can  you  tell — I cawn't — 

Why  Yankees  sport  that  flag  ? 
What  mean  those  Stripes  and  Stars,  that  flaunt 
Upon  the  motley  rag  ?" 

n. 

"  Indeed,  and  sure,  I  think  I  can  ; 

It's  plain  enough  to  me, 
And  every  woman,  child  and  man 

That  knows  the  A  B  C. 
You  see,  Sir,  'when  it  was  no  joke, 

Some  eighty  years  ago. 
Between  you  and  them  Yankee  folk 

That  now  those  colors  show, 

ni. 

There  came  a  day  when  o'er  the  sai/ 

Ye  beat  a  quick  retreat  ; 
And  proud  and  free  America 

Kose  up  upon  her  feet. 
'Twas  then  her  own  brave  flag  she  raised— 

And,  bo  the  mighty  wars  !— 
Tliere's  just  the  Stnpes  she  gave  ye,  placed. 

Beside  her  own  bright  Stars  ! 


121  THE   TWO  SCULPTORS. 


THE     TWO     SCULPTORS 

[a  LEOENU  of  ITLOBENCE.] 

Scene— h.  Sculptob'b  Studio. 

I. 

IT  was  a  ■world,  so  cold  and  wliite, 
But  all  in  grace  and  beaiity  moulded — 
So  colorless,  and  yet  so  bright, 
The  eye  might  crave  no  more  delight 

Than  onlj'  to  behold  it — 
As  if  before  our  mortal  sight 
A  dreamland  were  unfolded. 

31. 

A  land  so  strangely  calm  and  fair  ! 

Those  charmed  forms  in  silent  grouping, 
Though  motionless,  were  soulful  there  : 
Some  tower  in  god-liko  grandeur  rare. 

From  heights  immortal  stooping  ; 
And  S'ime  with  soft  and  pensive  air 
Are  low  in  slumber  drooi^ing. 

in. 

It  seems  as  if  by  magic  spell 

From  out  that  spirit  clime  had  faded 

The  glowing  hues,  the  vivid  swell, 

That  in  its  every  pulse  did  dwell, 
When  hand  Eternal  made  it  ; 

And  o'er  it  deadliest  pallor  fell. 
And  deepest  silence  shaded. 


THE   TWO  SCULPTORS.  125 

IV. 

But  lovely,  still,  albeit  the  doom — 

Oh  !  yc.'t  more  touching  iind  more  tender- 
Thus,  in  the  whiteness  of  the  tomb, 
Than  earth's  most  glowing,  dazzling  bloom 

Its  aspect  e'er  could  render, 
Diviner,  subtler  glories  loom 
Through  all  its  mystic  wonder. 


Proudly  the  Sculptor  stood  apart. 
Alone,  amid  that  fair  creation, 

And  in  those  airy  forms  of  Art 

Behold  the  children  of  his  heart 
With  deep  and  fond  elation  ; 

Around  ho  saw  himself  engirt 
By  dreams  of  inspiration. 

TI. 

Exultingly  at  length  ho  said  : 

"  Be  it  proclaimed  in  song  and  storj', 

No  leaf  or  flower  the  wreath  s.hall  shed 

That  decks  to-day  this  artist  head 
With  proud  and  deathless  glory — 

No  rival  now  have  I  to  dread 
Through  idl  the  ages  hoary  ! 

•vn. 

"Let  him  appear  whose  cunning  hand 
From  mine  shall  win  the  palm  undjdng 

Here,  I,  the  mighty  master  stand, 

And  challenge  send  throughout  the  land, 
The  skiilfulcst  defying !" 

Ere  long  unto  his  stern  command 
This  missive  came  replying  : 


126  THE   TWO  SCULPTORS. 

vin. 

"  Yes,  there  is  one,  despite  thy  vaunt, 
Who  dares  the  lists  to  enter  truly  ; 

No  caitiff  he  whom  words  may  dauut." 

Behold  !   a  stranger,  grim  and  gaunt. 
Arrived  in  Florence  newly. 

And  Nnth  unmoved,  unswerving  front 
Sought  out  the  Sculptor,  duly. 

IX. 

"  From  distant  climes,  at  thy  behest, 
A  nameless  stranger  here  repairing, 

Now  feareth  not  to  stand  the  test, 

And  TOWS  to  prove  his  claim  the  best, 
Although  no  trophies  bearing." 

Thus  spoke  the  nameless  stranger-guest, 
"With  brow  and  eye  of  daring  ! 


'"•  Now,  when  shall  come  our  game  of  sldll  ?*" 
Ho  said,  in  hollow  tones  appalling. 

"  Our  subject  ?"  as  he  muttered  still, 

A  laugh,  as  of  a  silver  rill. 
Upon' the  ear  came  falling  ; 

And  music-words  were  heard  to  thrill,    , 
In  love  and  gladness  calling. 

XI. 

And,  lo  !  the  portal  wide  was  flung. 
And  two  fair  forms  came  onward,  dancing- 

The  Sculptor's  wife  and  little  son. 

With  crimson  bloom  their  cheeks  upon, 
Gold  locks,  and  blue  eyes  glancing— 

"  Ha  !  ha  !"   the  stranger  cried,  anon, 
Unto  the  group  advancing. 


THE   TWO  SCULPTORS.  127 

SII. 

"  That  artist  shall  have  glorious  meed 

Who  incui-Dates  this  vision  glowing ; 
And  should  it  be,  in  sooth,  decreed 
That  sculptured  marble  e'er  suc;cced 

This  child  and  dame  in  showing, 
'T  will  surely  bo  a  wondrous  deed 

Of  subtlest  Art's  bestowing  !" 

xm. 

Then  spoke  the  husband  and  the  sire, 

Unto  his  grizzly  rival  turning  : 
"  Thy  boasting  brings  me  little  iro  ; 
And  freely  all  thou  dost  desire 

I  grant — albeit  mth  warning, 
That  he  who  highest  doth  aspire 

May  win  the  most  of  scorning." 

XIV, 

Beplied  the  stranger,  grim  and  wan  : 

"  Three  days  I  ask  for  my  endeavor — 
Three  days—  then,  when  the  evening  sun 
Upon  the  horizon  waxes  dun, 

My  task  shall  well  be  over." 
The  Sculptor  smiled  :    "Three  days  alone ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  !   I  do  not  waver, 

XV. 

"  Thou'lt  see  the  two  thou  lov'st  so  well 

Wrought  out  in  all  perfection  rarely  ; 
More  lovely  they  than  words  may  tell, 
As  bright  and  pure  as  lily  bell 

In  dewy  morning  early — 
Soft  cheeks,  fair  limbs,  in  rounded  swell. 
Of  marble  clear  and  pearly  1" 


123  THE   TWO  SCULPTORS. 

XVI. 

As  thus  lie  said,  beneath  his  eye 
The  two  fair  creatui-es  seemed  to  wither  ; 

Some-what  aghast,  and  somewhat  shy, 

Like  startled  fawns  they  both  stood  by, 
And  paler  grew  together. 

The  Sculptor,  too — he  knew  not  why — 
Paced,  restless,  there  and  hither. 

xvn. 

As  if  some  evil  influence 

The  Summer  air  were  all  pei-vading. 

And  weighed  adown  his  very  sense, 

"With  mystic  terror  dark  and  dense  ; 
But  then  himself  upraising  : 

"  Bah,  bah  !"  ho  cried,  "  why  should  I  wince, 
r/iei?'  terror  weakly  aiding  ?" 

XVIII. 

"  Ginevra  and  Paolo,  both," 

He  said,  "  why  gaze  so  frightened  yonder 
Upon  this  stranger  V    Nothing  loth 
Now  I  he  should  essay,  in  truth. 

The  task  that  ho  doth  ponder. 
Three  days  will  be  a  rapid  growth 

For  such  an  artist  wonder." 

XIX. 

"Well,  to  his  task,  without  delay, 
Pcepaircd  that  craftsman.    Unmolested 

In  secret  chamber  did  he  stay. 

And  all  untiring  jilied  away. 

As  on  the  swift  hours  hasted,  » 

Until  the  third  eve's  gijld  and  grey 
Upon  the  horizon  rested. 


6* 


THE   TWO  SCULPTORS.  1-5 

XS. 

Then  came  lie  forth  with  summons  loncl, 

Upon  the  impatient  master  calling  : 
*'  Approach,"  Jio  cried,  "  O  rival  proud  ! 
And  sec  tliy  jiridc  forever  bowed." 

In  sooth,  the  sight  was  galling ! 
For  there,  us  if  beneath  a  shroud, 

In  beauty  strange,  appalling. 

Lay  child  and  mother,  marble  pale. 

And  lying,  as  in  sleep,  enchanted. 
Had  Ai-t  before  in  wildest  tale 

Of  such  a  marvel  vaunted] 
"With  dimming  eyes,  and  limbs  that  fajl, 
And  in  his  ears  a  funeral  wail. 

By  some  strange  teixor  haunted, 

xxn. 

Came  closer  to  the  sculptured  two. 

The  ono  who  loved  them  best  and  nearest. 

Why  grows  his  check  so  j)alc  of  hue  ? 

Why  starts  upon  his  brow  the  dew  ? 
Say,  master,  what  thou  fearest. 

The  grizzly  stranger  near  him  di-ew : 
"  Whose  claim  is  now  the  fairest  ?'* 

xxnt. 

"  Two  lovely  forms,  though  still  and  cold !" 
With  mocking  laugh  he  could  not  smother, 

Said,  cruelly,  that  Phantom  old  : 

"  Go  lay  them  both  -wdthin  the  mould, 
The  sculptiu-'d  Child  and  Mother. 

Ha !   ha  !     Thou  canwt  not,  sure,  withhold 
The  palm  from  Death,  my  brother  !" 


130  SHADOWS. 


SHADOWS, 


CEEATHE  !  move  again  !  one  ^•ision  of  my  sonl  iindying, 
As  ouce  thy  glory,  Bun-brigbt,  slio-wcrecl  on  me — 
From  out  the  heart's  wild  storms  and  hopes  in  ruins  lying, 

Come  in  thy  radiant  immortality  ! 
There  are  strange,  hideous  forms  around  me  darkly  creeping, 

So  long  !   so  long  !   these  things  of  woe  and  gloom, 
There  are  such  nameless  pangs  in  this  my  weeping, 
I  cannot  choose,  but  shudder  at  the  doom  ! 


n. 

And  ever  with  this  voiceless,  breathless,  weary  longing, 

Stretch  out  my  hands  in  one  faint  mui-mured  prayer, 
Back,  back  to  that  dear  land  where  golden  dreams  were  thronging. 

Ere  yet  its  sky  was  darkened  by  despair. 
Do  hushed  !  be  hushed,  a  moment.  Fate's  unpitying  clamor — 

Oh,  fade,  dark  shapes,  in  mercy,  quickly  fade — 
One  look,  one  tone,  with  all  the  olden  glamour. 

Although  it  bo  an  echo  and  a  shade. 

ni. 

One  moment  in  the  purencss  of  that  mystic  feeling, 

Wearing  the  light  of  its  eternity  ; 
One  moment  in  the  silence  of  that  hushed  revealing, 

Breathing  through  height  and  depth  its  melody  ; 
The  breath  of  spring-buds  in  the  low  breeze  softly  dying, 

Encircles  thee,  O  shadow  dim  and  dear. 
Heart  beats  to  heart  in  faintly  murmured  sighing, 

Forgetting  doubt,  and  wrong,  and  quivering  fear  ! 


DEATH.  131 

IV. 

My  spirit  bursts  tbo  Ibcnisand  fetters  chaining, 

And  stand-)  again  with  thine  to  soar  on  higli  ; 
Again!   again!   those -wondrous 'eyes  are  raining 

Down  dcwii  of  fondness  on  mo,  as  in  days  gone  by  ! 
And  memory  comes  with  all  her  sweet  bells  ringing 

Around  me  peals  that  rush  of  silver  sound  ; 
Faint  rai^turous  whispers  from  the  far-off  bringing, 

Within  the  circle  of  the  holy  ground  ! 


DEATH 


UPON  the  marble  face  of  DeaLh, 
In  all  the  agnny  of  life, 
"Wo  gaze  with  quivering,  stifled  breath, 

And  passion's  awful  inward  strife. 
"Why  do  they  lie  so  cold  and  still  ? 

Can  nought  disturb  that  silence  dread  ? 
Nor  word,  nor  look,  nor  touch  can  thrill— 
They  are  dead  !  they  arc  dead  ! 

n. 

Ah  !   there  with  Death's  own  pallid  hue. 

We  see  the  love  that  we  have  slain  ; 
We  call  in  tones  that  once  it  knev/, 

But  call,  and  shriek,  and  pr;).y  in  Viiin  ! 
It  ^nll  not  speak,  it  will  not  move, 

The  silence,  stillness,  fall  so  dread  ; 
It  will  not  speak,  nor  look,  nor  move — 

It  is  dead  !   it  is  dead ! 


132  "IMPLORA  PACE." 


"  I  I\r  P  L  O  R  A    PACE 


U  t:\IPLOE:A  pace  !"     still  the  tlmndcr  crashes 

X     Night  and  day  -^-ithin  this  trembling  soul, 
And  the  red  lightning  shoots  and  scathes  in  mjTiad  flashes, 

Marking  each  verdant  spot  with  death  and  dole  ; 
And  through  the  lightless  caverns  of  this  heart  dark  waters  rush, 

And  wear  their  waj',  with  deep,  resistless  power, 
Bearing  ^^ithin  us  that  wild,  o'ermast'ring  crush 

The  strength  and  hope  that  might  have  met  the  hour. 

rr. 

"  Implora  Pace!"    Everj'  link  is  cloven, 

Every  green  leaf  scattircd  to  the  blast, 
And  the  gold  curtain,  o'er  the  future  woven, 

Eended,  to  show  the  future  like  the  past  ! 
All,  all,  or  youth's  fair  flowery  wi-eath,  or  glory's  starry  crown. 

Each  thought  and  throb  that  seemed  divine  of  yore 
Flit  through  the  rolling  whirlwind,  beaiing  doAvn 

Terrific  now  on  Life's  cold,  dreary  shore. 

ni. 

"  Implora  Pace!"    Golden  dreams  have  fed  me, 

Sea-toned  voices  of  triumphal  song. 
Bright  glimmerings  of  a  light  that  might  have  led  me. 

Ordeal-girded,  through  the  ranks  of  wrong  ; 
And  now,  'mid  wreck  and  ruin,  one  prayer  alone  I  pour — 

Not  for  the  victor's  might,  or  victor's  pride — 
One  heart- wrung  prayer  that  echoes  o'er  and  o'er. 

And  asks  nought  else  from  God  or  man  beside. 


MYSTERIES.  133 


IV. 


"  Implom  Pace .'"    Wheresoe'er  thou  pointcst, 
So  tliut  spring-breath  fall  iigain  ou  mc, 
■^  So  thou,  with  healing  hand,  this  weaiy  heart  annointest, 
There,  with  joy  most  bounding,  -would  I  flee. 
'Mmplora  Pace!"    Wild,  imploring  sighs  ascend  above  ; 
/ 1  pray  not  summer's  light  or  summer's  bloom, 

^ut  this  alone  from  all  thy  ruth  and  love  : 

"  Implora  Pace  /"  be  it  in  the  tomb. 


IMYSTERIES. 


AlilOETAL  once,  in  an  hour  of  i)ride, 
Looked  into  that  gulf  so  deep  and  wide — 
The  fathomless  gulf  of  the  human  heart — 
Then  turned  away  with  a  start ; 
For  terrible  sights  were  there  to  see 
Of  gi-ief,  and  gloom,  and  mystery. 
Wandering  on  and  wandering  ever. 
With  wild  and  mad  and  vain  endcavoi-, 
Through  murky  caves,  through  djEdal  ways, 
Where  sunlight  never  sheds  its  rays, 
Where  hollow,  mournful  murmurs  call, 
And  spectral  footsteps  fall. 

Then  a  voice  in  warning  said  : 
"Leave  thou  that  search,  so  dark  and  dread, 
Call  them  not  into  shape  and  form. 
Those  shadowy  things  of  flame  and  storm  ; 
Look  in  the  sea,  and  look  on  the  earth. 
O'er  ruin,  and  wreck,  and  dearth  ; 
Pierce  the  red  volcano's  gloom. 
The  depths  of  the  noisome,  icy  tomb, 


134  THE  mUSSIANS  BEFORE  PARIS. 

And  even  tlio  far-off,  dire  abyss 
Where  fiery  serjients  stiug  aud  liiss — 
But  shut,  with  a  strong  and  speedy  hand, 
The  gate  of  that  strange  land. 

Hide  it,  oh,  hide  it,  as  best  may  be, 
Or  woe,  eternal  woe  to  thee  ! 
Cover  it  over  with  summer  flowers, 
Through  all  thy  life-long  weary  hours  ; 
Gaze  through  those  veils  alone  that  hung 
Before  it,  ore  that  knell  was  rung — 
Seek  not  thy  spirit  wings 
From  those  terrific  things  ; 
Strive  to  still  and  strive  to  crush 
"Within  thy  soul  the  tempest  rush 
That  craves  for  knowledge  and  for  power 
To  place  thee  on  the  lofty  tower. 
These  are  the  treasures  of  the  deep, 
"Which  fearf  al  monsters  watch  aud  keep  I 
Away  !   away  !   where  beams  the  sun  ; 
Now  kneel  in  prayer,  thou  mortal  one, 
Hear  the  words,  so  solemn — dread — 
In  Love  and  Mercy  to  thee  said  ! 


THE     PRUSSIANS     BEFORE     PARIS. 

I. 

GPJM,  plodding  Teuton  !   fiery  Celt ! 
"With  natures  clashing  like  their  swords. 
Hate  meeting  hate  with  deadly  gi'asp. 

They  stand  the  fierce,  opposing  hordes — 
Set  face  to  face,  aud  hand  to  hand, 

Upon  this  dreadful  day  of  ire, 
While  eveiy  red-hot  cannon's  mouth 
Now  bellows  forth  its  curses  dire. 


THE  PRUSSIANS  BEFORE  PARIS.  135 

II. 

Victors  without  a  victory  ! 

Yo  vanquislied  till  unvanqnislicci  still ' 
Wo  kuow  how  irou  force  laay  be 

Met  by  the  irou  of  the  will. 
The  deadly  stroke  may  still  descend, 

The  bolts  of  doom  upon  her  fall ; 
Tiwt  Franco,  undying  to  the  end, 

With  haughty  front,  defies  it  all  I 

III. 

She  cannot  stoo^i — she  cannot  die — 

The  electric  fire  is  deep  within ; 
Though  brute,  relentless  force  may  try, 

A  triumph  it  shrJl  never  win. 
Bring  all  your  soldiers  to  the  field — 

With  all  your  "science  "-might  advance — 
Yet  still  before  you  ne'er  shall  yield, 

The  soul  of  proud,  immortal  France  1 


rv. 

JEIer  hour  will  come — majestic  calm — 

The  land  of  Joan  again  shall  rise  ; 
And,  bearing  in  her  hand  the  palm, 

bit  throned  and  crowned  in  queenly  guise. 
Her  lilies,  trampled  to  the  earth. 

Shall  spring  aloft  in  snowy  bloom. 
The  lovelier  in  their  second  birth, 

From  out  the  depth  of  silent  gloom  I 


13C  EDOM. 


EDOM.* 


THE  smile  of  d;xy  is  sad 
Upon  thy  desolation  and  thy  doom  ; 
The  light  that  ou  the  desert  sands  was  glad 

Now  o'er  thy  cold  gi'ey  walls  doth  mournful  fade  ; 
W'rajop'd  up  in  shadows,  one  vast  low'ring  tomb, 
Dark  with  th'  Almighty  power  thou'st  prostrate  laid. 

zi. 

No  more,  no  more  in  thee 

Shall  tones  of  triumph  or  of  joy  be  heard ; 
But  those  who  gaze  upon  thee  silently. 

And  with  a  strange,  deep  awe,  shall  rest  the  eye 
On  those  proud  colonnades  and  arches  reared 

From  out  the  rock,  "  0  thou  who  dwell'st  on  high !" 

m. 

Now  dim,  and  cold,  and  still 

The  dwelhngs  and  the  fanes,  once  quick  of  old, 
With  pomp  and  mirth,  and  hai-p  and  cymbal's  swell ; 

Thy  lamps  are  quench'd,  low  whispers  shuddering  fill 
The  spot  where  vengeance  doth  its  kingdom  hold, 

And  where  Avas  rung  forgiveness'  dreadful  kneU  1 

IV. 

Yet  thou  remainest  strong, 

Oh,  dweller  on  the  cliffs  that  crown  the  waste  ; 
A  monument  of  mortal  pride  and  wrong. 

In  scornful  sorrow  there  the  sands  among, 
A  fallen  queen  o'er  deserts  wild  and  vast. 

There  in  thino  arrogance  through  ages  long. 

m ' 

*Sco  Stephens,  an  American  traveller,  for  a  description  of  the  ruins  of 
Ldoui. 


EDOM.  137 

V. 
Time  h.alli  no  power  to  bide 

Within  thy  precincts  ;  here  no  crumbling  trace 
May  show  that  o'er  thee  did  his  footsteps  glide. 

The  conqiieror  of  Earth,  ho  left  thy  pride 
To  him  who  o'er  the  sx^iftest,  mightiest  pace 

Of  Time  or  Death  doth  all  tiiumphant  ride. 

VI. 

Thou  seem'st  ev'n  as  of  yore  , 

Still  tow'r  in  royal  might  thy  proud  abodes, 
With  propylon  and  capitol  that  bear  the  lore 

Of  Age's  grandeur  ;  but  no  more  !   no  more  ! 
Thy  palaces  have  kings  nor  temiiles  gods — 

O  little  one  of  nations  !  here  let  man  adore. 

VII, 

The  slimy  lizard  crawls, 

With  bright  and  glancing  eye,  from  dome  to  dome, 
Across  the  twisted  pillars  and  cold  walls, 

And  through  the  lofty  vacant  shrines  and  halls  ; 
No  beings  else  within  those  chambers  roam, 

No  other  footsteps  on  the  silence  falls. 

Tin. 
The  dusty  day-beams  peep 

Throiigh  wTeathed  arch  and  winding  gallery. 
Filled  up  with  solemn  thoughts  and  shadows  deep. 

That  through  the  death-still  void  all  faintly  creep. 
And  strange  and  thrilling,  like  a  spirit's  sigh. 

In  dimmed  nooks  and  lone  recesses  sleei). 

IX. 
Each  vast  and  high  arcade 

And  voiceless  chamber,  heavy  with  deep  awe, 
Seems  musing  darkly  in  its  gi.int  shade  ; 

And  all  around  the  silence  down  is  weighed 
By  echoes  of  the  past,  still  miu-muring  low. 

And  something  faint  (hat  whispers  of  the  dead. 


138  EDOM. 

X. 

Those  gorgeous  pillars  riso 

With  cunning  trac'iy  of  primeval  hands, 
In  noble  skill,  unto  the  azure  skies 

That  look  with  solemn  i)ity  on  the  wreck  that  hes, 
Of  pride  and  glorj-  hid,  'mid  scorching  sands, 

Marking  the  wrath  on  high  in  morning  guise. 

XI. 

What  wert  thon,  haughty  one  ? 

Didst  thou  not  strain  unto  the  shimmering  stars  ? 
Have  not  thy  banners  waved,  thine  armor  shone, 

Thy  princes  o'er  the  wide  earth  fiercely  gone, 
And  reddened  it  with  desolating  wars, 

Till  all  the  darkness  of  their  iro  was  done  ? 

xn. 

I  see  the  levin  rush 

Of  glittering  swords  and  spears  and  steel-clad  men. 
That  shout  exulting  in  their  triumj^h's  flush. 

And  through  the  air  proud  strains  of  music  gush, 
And  chariots  roll,  and  gloT\iog  wreaths  arc  strewn  : 

Then  falleth  on  the  scene  a  mighty  hush. 

xm. 
And,  'mid  that  hush,  behold  ! 

A  conqueror  comes  forth  upon  his  steed, 
■With  bearing  ev'n  as  of  no  mortal  mould. 

In  all  the  blazonry  of  silks  and  gold  ; 
Hath  he  not  won  his  valor's  noble  meed  ? 

The  dust  hath  o'er  the  homes  of  Judah  roU'd. 

XIV. 

But,  lo  !  a  voice  hath  spoke  : 

"  O  Bosra,  woe  to  thee  in  all  thy  purple  pride  !" 
And  nf)W  the  avenging  hosts  have  onward  broko, 

The  sharp  steel  gleams,  the  thunder  hath  awoke. 
The  war-fiend's  breath  blows  hotly  far  and  wide — 

Whiit  truth  is  pcal'd  to  thee  amid  the  shock  ? 


JETERNJTAS.  13S 

XV. 

"  Thou'lt  know  I  am  tlic  Lord  !" 
In  terror  and  in  fltime  that  sound  is  borne  ; 

'Tis  writ  in  blood,  'tis  flasli'd  from  out  the  sword- 
Loud,  loud  and  deep  is  heard  the  mighty  word— 

The  ^Tl•alhful  vial  o'er  thy  head  is  poured, 
For  thes,  proud  daughter  of  the  earth,  to  mourn  I 

XVI, 

The  warrior  bands  of  might — 

Lehold  the  palms  are  now  more  Btrong  than  they ; 
The  Avhispering  wind  that  follows  on  the  night 

Is  louder  than  the  tones  that  led  the  fight ; 
Where  sleep  thy  Kings  and  Princes  of  the  potent  sway  ? 

•'With  the  uncircumcised,"  in  darkest  night ! 

svn. 

And  thon  art  dread  to  see, 

With  malediction  brooding  on  thy  walls, 
The  sous  of  men  with  shuddering  look  on  thee, 

And  pass  along  euwrapt  and  silently  : 
An  awful  voice  still  lingers  in  thy  halls, 

"  Accursed  among  the  nations  shalt  thou  be  V 


iETERNITAS. 

I. 

I  SEEK  thee  on  the  wild  wings  of  love  and  pain. 
With  a  subtle  striving  ; 
By  the  deep  passion  of  my  spirit  riving. 

The  dungeon  and  chain, 
And  I  pierce  through  the  silent  gloom 
That  wraps  thee,  as  in  the  tomb  ! 


no  .  JETERNITAS. 

II. 

All  space  is  fiUctl  -with  thee,  like  the  winds  and  sun, 

And  I  feel  thy  presence 
As  a  strange,  mournful,  mysterious  essence, 

Mine  only  one  ! 
TVhile  alouo  and  apart  we  stand, 
Thou  and  I,  in  the  shadowy  land. 

III. 
Are  wo  not  one,  by  many  a  secret  sign. 

Breathing  and  burning  ; 
By  the  vast,  boundless  agony  of  yearning, 

Both  thine  and  mine  ? 
By  all  that  momorj^  brings 
On  her  thousand  rushing  wings  ? 

IV. 

Have  we  not  stood  together  on  the  verge 

Of  the  far  Eternal, 
And  felt  its  breezes  blowing  calm  and  vernal. 

Its  waters  surge  ? 
While  all  the  golden  bars 
Were  raised  from  the  sun  and  stars. 

V. 

Through  the  clear,  crystal  glory  of  our  dream 

Shone  pure  and  glowing 
All  myt^teries  from  the  far  Elysian  flowing, 

With  dazzling  gleam. 
Immortal,  then,  wo  knew 
The  link  that  bound  us  two. 

VI. 

My  love  hath  been  to  thee  what  none  may  know, 

Mystic  and  holy ; 
Clothed  in  the  whiteness  that  a  spirit  solely 

Above  can  show. 
In  the  light  of  the  heavenly  place 
I  might  btand  with  thee,  face  to  face. 


^TERNITAS.  141 


^711. 


Aucl  I  have  thought  of  thee,  each  thought  a  prtycr, 

With  deep  adoring ; 
All  the  rich  vials  of  my  life  outpouring 

Their  incense  rare — 
Thy  beauty  as  I  saw, 
With  hushed  religious  awe. 


•vta. 

We  have  no  part  in  mortal  change  or  time, 

For  us  the  i:>ortal 
Opes  Addo  and  wondrous  of  the  land  immortal, 

Far  off — sublime — 
Infinity  can  but  hold 
The  Love  and  the  Truth  untold. 


IX. 

The  gates  of  Hope  and  Joy  have  closed  behind, 

With  a  clang  of  thunder  ; 
Over  the  wild,  bleak  waste,  in  mournful  wonder, 

I  fled  as  the  wind  ; 
Till  on  the  Eternal  shore 
I  heard  the  deep  ocean's  roar. 

X. 

There  I  await  thee  while  the  ages  bo, 

]\Iino  own  for  ever — 
Mine  by  a  bond  that  power  of  none  may  sever — 

Eternity 
Shall  be  for  lis  the  sphere 
Of  all  Time  whisjiered  here  1 


142  ALICE. 


ALICE. 

A  POETEAIT. 
I. 


TTlEPiE  she  stands,  so  calm  and  meek, 
With  the  rose-lint  on  her  cheek, 
Euby  lips  ai^art  to  speak — 
Pretty  Alice ! 


n. 


Chestnut  locks  fall  thick  below 
On  the  slender  nock  of  snow, 
In  those  eyes  a  tender  glow — 
Lovely  Alice ! 


m. 


Like  an  osier  o'er  the  stream, 
See,  she  Lends,  as  in  a  di-eam. 
Brightly  as  a  glad  sunbeam- 
Graceful  Alice  I 


IV. 


Shadows  flit,  but  leave  no  trace 
On  the  sweet  and  nymph-like  face, 
Where  all  glorious  thoughts  have  place— 
Tairest  Alice  ! 


Now  she  springs,  with  fawn-like  glee. 
O'er  the  mead,  so  light  and  free, 
Loving  bird  and  flower  and  tree — 
Gmleless  Ahce ! 


AN-  ADJURATION.  1*3 


•\T. 


Silver  clear  her  laughter  ring;?, 
Like  a  rushing  stream  that  flings 
Down  the  hills  its  tuneful  spiings— 
Merry  Alice  ! 


vn. 


Oh,  so  soft  that  voice's  tone, 
Like  the  young  trees'  breezy  moan, 
Who  may  not  be  charmed  and  won- 
Gentle  Alice ! 


VIII. 


Thou  hast  joy  and  youth  and  love — 
Sweetest  blessings  from  above — 
A  thousand  more  be  o'er  thee  wove, 
DarUng  Alice  ! 


AN     ADJURATION. 


DEPAET,  depart,  oh,  golden  dream  ! 
Thou  art  too  dear  to  me — 
A  joy  so  fearful  and  so  wild, 
So  deep  a  mystery  1 

rr. 

Thy  spell  is  on  the  summer  sky. 
The  golden  fruit  and  flowers. 

And  as  one  long  and  heavy  sigh 
Thou  mak'bt  the  passing  houi'S. 


Ifel  MEMORY. 

III. 
I  sit  amid  the  closing  shades 

Of  this  lone,  silent  eve  ; 
And  strive — but,  oh,  -with  striving  vain- 

The  fetters  to  unweave. 

rv. 
So  happy  am  I  for  awhile, 

And  yet  so  sad  agiiin, 
A  thousand  throbs  are  in  my  heart 

Of  mingled  bliss  and  pain. 

v. 
A  joy  —but  'tis  a  joy  like  that 

The  fairy-favored  know — 
A  grief — but  yet  a  grief  unlike 

All  other  griefs  below. 

rv. 

The  shadows  are  too  sombre  far 
That  o'er  me  flit  and  fall. 

The  light  too  brilliant  and  too  glad — 
I  cannot  bear  it  all ! 


MEMORY. 
I. 

TnOSE  eyes  still  haunt  me  with  their  deep  love-light, 
llright  as  the  day-beams,  pure  as  the  stars  of  night. 
Looking  on  mine  with  love  so  tnie  and  tender, 
With  a  warm,  treasure-Uke  and  holy  splendor. 

n. 

Thou  brought'st  me  joy  to  prize  so  long  and  well — 
Thoughts  of  thee  only  brought  ev'ry  tear  that  fell ; 
Life's  fairest  hour  was  in  our  first  dear  greeting, 
Darkest  of  all,  our  last  and  lonely  meeting. 


WORDS.  U5 

iir. 
I  dream  that  sweet  dream  o'er  and  o'er  again, 
Cold  tbouyli  my  life  be,  yet  will  that  spell  remain, 
Beats  still  my  heart  as  wildly,  fondly,  truly 
As  when  our  happy  love  was  blooming  newly. 

IV. 

Most  dear  of  all  in  long  past  hopeless  years  ; 
Dearer  than  ever,  now  'mid  those  bitter  tears, 
"Worshipped  and  treasured  with  such  deep  devotion, 
Fair,  precious  gem,  in  Life's  dark,  troubled  ocean  ! 


WORDS, 


N 


I. 

TAY,  tell  me  not,  ah  !  tell  me  not,  "  in  sooth  'tis  but  a  word," 


j\   No  deeper  wound  hath  e'er  been  given  by  keen  Damascus 

sword 
Than  by  those  words  which  forth  leap  out  from  Passion's  furnace 

born. 
Aimed  at  the  quivering,  writhing  heart  in  obloquy  and  scorn. 

n. 
Ay,  words  there  are  whose  lightest  stroke  will  cleave  through 

heart  and  brain, 
And  leave  that  mark  of  blackness  there  till  life  be  rent  iu  twain. 
That  glide  like  poison  through  the  blood,  jDervade  the  earth  and 

air, 
And  cast  o'er  life  for  evermore  the  shadow  of  despair. 

rn. 

Words !   words !  no   darker  curse    hath    e'er   upon    the   earth 

appeared. 
Than  that  which  on  their  airy  wings  the  human  soul  hath  sear'd. 
Though  years  on  years  roll  on  and  on,  yet  will  the  feting  remain, 
Which  every  art  to  charm  away  hath  oft  been  tried  in  vain  ! 

7 


us  THE  STORM. 


THE     STORM. 

THE  voice  of  God  is  in  the  blast, 
His  power  is  in  the  sky  ; 
Denuuciiitious  dark  and  dread, 
With  rapid  wing,  sweep  by. 

II. 

The  mighty  trees  bow  down  their  heads 

In  horror  and  alarm  ; 
They  know  who  "guides  the  whirlwind," 

And  "rides  upon  the  storm  !" 

m. 

That  vivid  flash  from  Heaven's  own  eyo 

It  cleaves  the  troubled  air — 
And  now  a  roaring,  crackling  peal 

Spreads  onward  there — and  there  ! 

rv. 
The  white  foam  dashes  through  the  night, 

The  Sea  a-raging  lies — 
It  Btriveth,  in  its  maniac  strength. 

To  combat  with  the  skies — 


To  speed  like  conqueror  in  his  pride, 
And  seek  a  new  domain — 

To  humble  down  his  sister,  Earth, 
And  bind  her  with  a  chain. 

VI. 

All,  all  ye  arms  of  Nature's  might, 

Ye  are  the  work  of  One  ! 
And  ye  are  guided  by  His  hand. 

And  by  His  will  alone  I 


THE  DREAM  OF  EDEN.  147 


THE      DREAM     OF     EDEN.* 

WOE  to  tliee,  Azra,  woe  !  * 

No  more  for  thee  the  rose  shall  blow, 
No  more  for  thee  the  palm-tree  grow, 
Never  a  green  spot  bloom  within, 
Where  thou  maj-'st  rest  the  weary  wing. 
■   The  spell  is  writ  on  stars  and  moon, 
And  blazes  in  the  light  of  noon  ; 
All,  height  and  breadth  and  depth  below 
Seems  not  too  mighty  for  that  woe  ; 
It  girdles  round  the  earth  and  sea 
Mine  aU-embracing  agony  ! 

Ten  thousand  throbs  of  hope  and  joy 
Are  now  as  arrows  to  destroy. 
The  dewy  thoughts  of  one  sweet  hour 
Descend  in  memory's  fiery  shower 
Upon  my  heart,  upon  my  brain  ; 
But  plaint  and  prayer  are  all  in  vain. 
Age  on  age  has  rolled 
Since  that  knell  accursed  toll'd, 
Bat  its  voice  seems  never  ending, 
With  all  other  voices  blending — 
Never,  never  stilled  or  done, 
Sound  and  echo  knelling  on  ! 

Woe  to  thee,  Azra,  woe  ! 

Once  for  thee  the  rose  did  blow, 

Once  for  thee  the  palm-tree  grow  ; 

And  sweet,  silent  nooks  of  green  > 

Had  thy  soul  for  thoiights  serene  ; 

Golden  dreams,  on  rapid  wing, 

Swept  the  breezes  of  the  spring  ; 

*  This  poem  wnb  puggeetod  by  nn  Eastern  legend,  which  tells  of  .1  pow- 
erful  monarch,  who,  having  discovered  that  the  CJarden  of  Edun  Rtill  cxi.-ted, 
came  to  ita  gate  with  nu  invading  army,  and  attempted  to  force  ua  eatrance, 
despite  the  fiery  sword  of  tho  Cherubim. 


1«  THE  DREAM  OF  EDEN. 

All  the  glowing  mj-steries 

Seeming  in  the  earth  and  sides 

Eushed  before  thy  dazzled  sight, 

Curtiiined  in  a  veil  of  light. 

But  a  change  came  slowly  stealing 

O'er  thy  spirit-sight : 

Mystic  voices,  low  revealing, 

Whispered  in  the  night. 

And  a  fonu  before  me  shone, 

The  radiant  Angel  of  the  Sun, 

Making  all  earth's  flowers  grow  pale. 

Earthly  music  but  a  wail, 

Showing  to  my  dazzled  eye 

The  dream  of  a  far,  immortal  sky. 

"Woe  to  thee,  Azra,  woe ! 

To  seek  that  Eden  here  below. 

Far  off,  far  off,  since  the  primal  day 

There  in  the  solitude  deep  it  lay, 

Since  the  hour  when  its  bright  ones  fled  away. 

Might  not  mortal  win  its  bloom 

Once  again  from  night  and  doom  ? 

And  the  n:ighty  curse  despite 

Bask  in  the  bowers  of  Eden's  light ! 

Woe  to  thee,  Azra,  woe  ! 
A  sweet  voice  whispered,  "  Thou  shalt  go  !" 
Glad  as  the  breeze  of  the  opening  morn. 
Swift  was  my  soul  on  the  wild  waves  borne 
Over  the  desert  away,  away  ! 
On  to  the  realms  of  another  day. 
Then  low  moans  and  murmurs  came, 
Specks  of  darkness,  sparks  of  flame. 
Mystic  dreamings,  strange  and  deep, 
Forms  that  flit  through  troubled  sleep, 
Till,  before  the  frowning  gate, 
Stood  we  two,  with  souls  elate. 


HOME  REST.  1*9 

Through  the  clonds  that  darkly  covered, 

Through  the  brooding  curse  that  hovered. 

Wildly,  madly  rushed  we  on, 

Deeming  bliss  and  Eden  won. 

Sudden  from  the  lurid  gloom 

Fl  ished  the  fiery  sword  of  Doom — 

And  the  lightning  round  was  flashing, 

And  the  thunder-peal  was  crashing, 

Till,  blasted  and  crushed  by  that  mighty  pain, 

I  fell  with  the  darkness  and  brand  of  Cain  ! 

"Woe  to  thee,  Azra,  woe  ! 
The  bright  shape  stood  no  more  below  ; 
But  deep  and  loud  a  voice  is  heard. 
Seething  fire  in  every  word  : 
"  Never  again  to  mortal  eyes 
Can  be  unclosed  earth's  Paradise. 
No  moi'e  !   no  more  !    Eternal  fate 
Stands  now,  as  ever,  at  the  gate. 
And  unto  him  the  doom  shall  be 
Again  who  hopes  and  strives  as  thee  !' ' 


HOME-REST 


THEY  speak  of  the  fame  that  is  round  me  shed, 
But  I  care  for  its  light  no  more  ; 
The  spell  of  that  voice  is  for  ever  fled, 

Which,  perchance,  I  had  prized  before. 
With  the  emerald  wi-eath  they  may  deck  my  brow, 

To  the  lyre  of  the  minstrel  due  ; 

Vain  is  it  all  to  my  fond  heart  now — 

I  tuin  from  their  praise  to  you  ! 


150  TO  MARIA. 

II. 

Yes,  -n^eariecl  of  all,  thus  I  come  to  thee, 

0  most  dear  on  the  earth  below  ; 

Darli,  dark  were  my  way  if  I  might  not  flee, 

And  rest  in  thy  bosom  so. 
As  the  wandering  bird  that  will  panting  come 

From  its  flight  o'er  the  stormy  sea, 
To  rest  its  Aving  in  a  shady  home, 

So,  darling,  I  fly  to  thee ! 

in. 

O  pnlse  of  my  heart !   'tis  thy  love  alone 

That  can  bring  aught  of  joy  to  mc  ; 
All  the  gloiy  and  power  that  have  e'er  been  worn 

1  would  spurn  for  one  glance  from  thee. 
As  the  sage  will  read  on  the  midnight  skies 

To  learn  what  his  fate  may  be. 
Spell-bound  I  gaze  on  those  loving  eyes, 
The  stars  of  my  destiny  ! 


TO     MARIA. 

A  VAI-EKTINE. 
I. 

TBTE  stars  of  Heaven  are  in  your  eyes, 
The  breath  of  summer  in  your  sighs, 
A  Grecian  purity  and  grace 
In  every  feature  of  your  face. 

n. 
In  every  tone  there's  music's  spell, 
As  if  from  angel  lips  it  fell, 
A  sylph-likc  i^lay  in  every  move, 
Light  as  the  winds  that  round  us  rove. 


LII^ES.  151 

III. 
Ah  me  '.  that  every  gift  so  rare 
Should  only  add  to  my  despair. 
How  can  I  hoi^e  to  -win  and  -wear 
The  very  fairest  of  the  fair  ? 

IV. 

Maria  t  have  you  ever  stood, 
To  gaze  upon  the  silver  flood 
Meandering  in  sportive  play, 
So  beauteously  upon  its  way  ? 

V. 

Have  you  remarked  the  pearly  dew, 
In  purity  resembling  you  ? 
And  have  you  heard  two  turtle-doves 
Telling  each  other  of  their  loves  ? 

VI. 

Say,  have  you  heard  of  "  bosky  dells," 

Of  purling  streams  and  evening  bells  ? 

And  have  you  heard,  beloved  one  1— 

Have  you  ever  heard  of  "The  Blarney  Stsno  ?" 


LINES 

FOUND  ■WBiri'iSSr  ON  THE   WAiL   OF  A   PEISON  CELL. 

I. 

OEUTNED  hopes  1   0  ruined  brain  ! 
O  breaking  heart  that  breaks  in  vain ! 
I  hear  ye  tell  that  all  is  past. 
Amid  the  blackness  wild  and  vast. 
I  hear  strange  murmurs  o'er  and  o'er. 
Cold  phantoms  flit  mine  eyes  before, 
And,  'mid  the  'wildering  maze,  I  hear 
The  bell  of  Fate  toll  loud  and  clear ! 


152  zmES. 


n. 

[  bad  sweet  tlionglits.  I  had  sweet  drerjns, 
Of  gold  and  azure's  roinglmg  gleams, 
I  had  deep  throbs  tha^  shook  my  breast ; 
But  now  'tis  ail  an  icy  rest. 
I  have  no  sighs,  I  have  no  tears, 
I  have  no  clashing  hopes  or  fears, 
I  have  no  \  houghts  but  one  alone, 
That  all  is  lost  and  all  is  gone  ! 

III. 
O  broken  heart !  O  rained  brain  ! 
For  you  there  comes  no  rest  again  ; 
Far  off,  far  off,  to  lands  unknown, 
All  dark  and  dim  I  soar  alone. 
Afar,  afar,  from  star  to  star. 
Through  those  strange  gates  that  hang  ajar, 
Away  !   away  !   'till  mortal  eye 
In  vain  endeavors  to  descry. 

IV. 

0  broken  heart !   O  ruined  brain  I 
Thou  knowest  the  madness  and  the  pain  ; 
There  is  no  green  spot  in  the  waste, 
There  is  no  drop  of  balm  to  taste. 

For  memory  stretches  forth  her  wand, 
And  all  is  now  a  frozen  land- 
Whore  crowds  of  nameless,  shapeless  things 
Are  hovering  round  on  rushing  wings. 

V. 

Tct,  once  for  me,  amid  the  gloom. 
Some  flowers  of  Hope  were  taught  to  bloom  ; 
Sweet  viKion;^  through  the  whirlwind  sung, 
For  passion  still  was  warm  and  young  ; 
And,  borne  on  pleasure's  tidal  wave, 

1  knew  not  Earth  contained  a  gi-avc — 
Believing,  dreaming,  bounding  on. 
Till  all  was  lost  and  all  was  gone  ! 


SOLITUDE.  153 


IV. 

O  broken  heart !   0  ruined  brain  ! 
Look  back  no  more— yo  look  in  vain  ; 
From  out  the  past  sharp  arrows  fly 
Of  mute  and  nameless  agony. 
Above  thy  youth,  thy  hopes,  thy  all, 
There  lies  a  heavy,  sable  pall  ; 
There  is  no  hope — there  is  no  sign — 
'Tis  silence  all  for  fate  like  thine  ! 


SOLITUDE 


I  DWELL  alone  in  a  castle  of  pride, 
Dim  and  remote,  and  grand,  and  wide  •. 
Alone  through  the  stately  halls  I  glide, 
My  own  gray  shadow  to  stand  beside. 

n. 

Heavily  hangs  the  mystic  gloom 

Over  each  vast  and  silent  room — 

Silent  and  cold  as  the  very  tomb, 

And  stamped  with  the  stamp  of  a  mighty  doom. 

ni. 

There,  in  that  castle  old  and  gray, 
Moulder  the  days  of  my  youth  away, 
"With  never  a  flower  to  bloom  by  day, 
And  never  a  star  at  night  to  play. 

IV. 

Eefnge  or  rest  for  me  is  none, 
Save  only  that  castle  so  dark  and  lone, 
There,  where  the  %\'inds  of  the  winter  moan, 
And  Fate  sits  grim  on  her  iron  throne  ! 


154  TO    THE  WAXDERIxa    WIND. 


TO    THE    WANDERING    WIND. 


0  SWEET  wind,  speed  across  the  wave 
As  fast  as  fust  as  may  be  ; 
There's  some  one  there  that  wo\ild  be  glad 
To  heax  some  news  of  me. 


n. 

He's  lonely,  lonely  now,  I  linow — 
And  how  his  heart  would  swell 

To  hear  these  kindly  messages 
From  one  who  loves  him  well  ! 

III.      . 
Thou  wilt  be  sweeter  to  his  ear 

Than  music's  sweetest  tone  ; 
An'  thou  wilt  breathe  those  whisperings 

I  pour  to  him — my  own  ! 

IT. 

Oh,  Rfiy  to  him  the  world  is  cold, 

And  I  mi^ht  never  dare 
To  trust  unto  its  cruel  hands 

This  secret  dear  and  rare. 


V. 

Bvt  thon,  sweet  wind,  for  him  will  be 

A.n  a'lgf-l  voice  to  cheer. 
And  tell  him  every  sorrowing  throb, 

And  eveiy  hope  and  fear, 


TO    THE   WAKVERINO    WIND.  155 


TI. 


And  how  this  heart  has  pined,  alas  ! 

For  many  a  weary  day, 
And  known  no  rest,  or  peace  or  joy 

Since  he  was  torn  away  ; 


YII. 


And  how  it  beat  for  him  alone 
When  wc  were  side  by  side, 

And  how  ev'n  wai-mer,  truer  still. 
Though  anyry  seas  divide  ; 


VIII. 


And,  though  sad  years  may  roll  away. 

That  I'll  bo  true  and  leal ; 
'Tis  Death's  strong  hand  alone  can  break 

That  dear  and  sacred  seal. 


IX. 


Then,  breathe  upon  him,  gentle  wind, 
And  kiss  his  cheek  and  brow, 

And  softly  wave  above  his  head 
The  green  o'erhanging  bough. 


And  tell  him  that  I  hear  them  say 

This  land  is  lovely  still, 
But  all  is  dark  and  drear  to  me. 

In  valley  or  on  hill ; 

zi. 

That  earth  has  but  one  happy  spot — 

Wherever  he  may  be, 
And  tliat  where  he  is  not,  is  all 

A  dismal  waste  to  me. 


156  A    TEARyiyG   VOICE. 

111. 
Yet,  leave  him  not,  oh,  loving  wind, 

Vuthout  one  "whisper  more, 
Too  faint  for  mortal  kind  to  hear, 

Too  prized  aloud  to  pour. 

XIII. 

Speak,  speak  unto  his  inmost  soul 
The  deepest  thoughts  of  mine, 

And  then  bring  back  across  the  sea 
Some  tender,  secret  sign  ! 


A     YEARNING     VOICE. 


I]TPiOM  the  breeze  a  sigh,  from  the  flowers  a  smile, 
^    As  they  gave  to  me  in  the  days  erewhilo  ; 
From  the  morning  sun  one  golden  beam, 
As  upon  me  shone  in  my  childhood's  dream. 

II. 
From  (he  past  one  tone  of  its  melody, 
Like  summer  dews  to  the  witheiing  tree, 
I  sigh  for  now  as  I  muse  alone, 
With  Joy  and  Hope  from  my  pathway  flown. 

III. 
From  the  fluttering  leaves  a  low,  kindly  voice, 
As  once  thc-y  bade  mo  in  lifo  rejoice. 
From  the  heart  that  throbs  in  my  weary  breast 
One  little  moment  of  gentle  rest. 

IV. 

From  the  present  a  draught  of  oblivion's  spring. 
That  my  thoughts  no  more  to  one  memory  cling. 
From  friend  and  foe  forgelfuluess. 
And,  dying,  my  words  shall  be  but  to  bless. 


A  DREAM  OF   THE  ARCTIC   SEAS.  157 


A     DREAM    OF     THE    ARCTIC    SEAS.* 

I. 

BOKXE  on  the  vdngs  of  a  strong  desire, 
As  if  by  tho  rushing  wind, 
Cleaving  the  pathway  of  blue  and  fire. 

That  world  I  sought  to  find — 
The  desert  of  icj'^  dome  and  column, 

Of  silence  and  darkness  dread. 
Where,  from  Nature's  cheek  in  death-trance  solemn, 
Color  and  warmth  have  fled. 

n. 

Piercing  the  gloom  of  the  deiise  eclipse, 

Fast  bound  on  the  spreading  floe, 
Ssen  are  the  men  and  the  tall  proud  ships, 

Black-shadowed  amidst  the  snow. 
Veterans,  grey  in  long  enduring, 

Bronze-cast  in  a  Titan  mould. 
And  youth,  with  its  dreams  and  hopes  alluring, 

In  its  glow  of  molten  gold. 

in. 

Under  the  shade  of  the  beetling  crags, 

Clear  cut  on  the  steel-blue  sky, 
Hemmed  by  treacherous,  smooth  ice  flags. 

Patient  and  calm  they  lie. 
Around  them  now  are  the  depths  awaking, 

A  cry  as  of  pain  and  strife  ; 
The  fettered  fountains  are  slowly  breaking 

Their  way  unto  light  and  life. 


*  See  Narratives  of  tlie  ExpediliuasiJf  Sir  John  Eranklin,  ami  subsequent 
Arctic  explorers. 


153  A   DREAM  OF    THE  ARCTIC  SEAS. 

rv. 

Past  is  that  midnight  of  -watching  and  fears, 

And  now  o'er  the  heading  skids 
The  silent  tumult  of  dawn  appears 

In  gorgeous  and  glowing  dyes. 
Swift,  amid  varying  smiles  and  bkashes, 

The  violet  clouds  unfold, 
Till  up  to  his  throne  the  day-god  rushes, 

In  pomp  of  flame  unrolled  ! 

But  that  high  faith  that  will  dare  and  cope, 

At  length  they  have  proudly  won  ; 
The  massy  portals  before  them  ope 

To  the  glittering  keys  of  the  sun. 
And  now  on  that  track,  so  brightly  glowing, 

By  favoring  breezes  fanned, 
On  where  the  stream  is  freely  flowing 

Anear  to  the  promised  land  ! 

VI, 

Grim  is  the  frown  of  the  Arctic  King, 

Sternly  he  forgeth  his  chains  ; 
But  vain  his  power  o'er  the  bounding  spring. 

So  warm  within  those  veins. 
Swift  is  the  sail,  on  its  smooth  way  gliding. 

Swelled  by  the  pulse  of  the  bravo, 
And  the  voices  of  fame  and  duty  guiding 

Over  the  dreary  wave. 

VII. 

Here,  at  the  goal,  the  victor  stands — 

Here  with  the  dream  fulUlkd  ; 
But  why,  with  nerveless  and  cold-clasped  hands, 

And  voices  strangely  stilled. 
Hover  around  him,  pale  and  tearful. 

The  tried  and  tmsted  band  ? 
What  are  the  words,  so  low  and  fearful. 

That  scorch  like  burning  brand  ? 


A  DREAM  OF   THE  AUG  TIC  SEAS.  150 

XIII. 

Ah  !   the  hind  eyes  of  the  guide  and  seer. 

Say  not  they  are  dark  and  dim  ; 
Sceth  he  not  with  a  vision  clear, 

Far  o'er  that  icy  rim  ! 
Woe  is  onr  lot !   he  looketh  yonder, 

The  shadows  of  pain  on  his  brow — 
To  another  home  and  land  of  wonder 

His  good  ship  turned  the  prow. 

«  «  »  • 

IX. 

Mockingly  sparkled  the  false  cold  light 

On  the  icy  tomb  of  the  chief, 
And  over  the  desert,  vast  and  white, 

Strong  men  dropped  down  in  gnef  ; 
Low  on  the  mast  the  colors  are  trailing. 

Low  as  the  hopes  of  the  brave, 
And  the  death-poal  sounds,  'mid  tears  and  wailing. 

Over  that  Arctic  grave ! 

X. 

Here  on  the  breast  of  the  frozen  pack, 

"W'hcre  the  chasm  is  deep  and  wide, 
Yawning  before  them  v.intry  black 

The  mom-ners  stand  side  by  side  ; 
Down  in  the  depths  a  heart-wrung  moaning 

Over  the  vanished  clay. 
And  now  the  last  prayer  in  its  sad  intoning 

Dies  on  the  breeze  away  1 

XI. 

Mourn  him  not  that  with  dauntless  hand. 

Through  the  world's  dark  strife  and  -sMrong, 
Loving  and  loyal,  and  calm  and  grand. 

lie  hath  borne  that  torch  along — 
The  torch  that  hath  lighted  the  gloom  of  the  ages, 

Of  knowledge  and  purpose  high. 
Held  on  through  the  ranks  of  the  heroes  and  sage3 

Whose  lot  was  to  struggle  and  tlie  ! 


ijo  cnmsTMAS  carol. 


SII. 


Tor  the  last  throb  of  that  noble  breast, 

The  stillness  and  cold  of  death, 
In  quick'ning  flame  to  the  world  hath  passed, 

A  new  and  strong  life-breath. 
Far  better  the  sorrow  on  high  that  raises. 

To  the  hght  of  a  purer  day, 
Than  the  joy  which  often  the  soul  abases 

To  the  level  of  human  clay ! 


CHRISTMAS     CAROL. 


!• 


DOWN  by  the  pathway  faintly  blue 
That  slopes  from  the  Eastern  gate, 
Trails  the  white  robe  upon  our  globe 

Of  a  monarch  in  royal  state. 
O  merry,  meiTy  Christmas,  « 

O  time  of  sunless  snow, 
When  the  starry  worlds  are  brightest, 
And  the  North  winds  laughing  blow  1 


"With  the  bounding  step  of  early  youth 

lie  hurries  upon  his  way  ; 
Around  him  troop  a  joyous  group 

"Who  care  not  for  June  or  May. 
For  merry,  merry  ChristmaB 

Of  the  d;tzzling  ice  and  snow. 
And  the  holly  and  ivy  shining. 

Is  pleasanter  far  I  know. 


THE  LOVER  KiyG.  161 

m. 
He  "waves  arouncl  his  sceptred  hand, 

And  son"C>w  and  sin  must  flee  ; 
In  that  magic  ring  that  girts  the  king 

No  evil  has  powtr  to  be. 
O  merry,  merry  Cliristmas, 

"When  sacrc  d  hearth-fires  glow, 
And  music  and  song  and  laughter 

Around  them,  at  evening,  glow  ! 

IV. 

In  vain,  in  vain  the  dead  years  rise. 

And  Avhisper,  "we,  too,  have  been  !" 
They  may  moan  and  wail,  but  -we'll  hear  no  Udc 

From  such  phantoms  cold,  I  ween. 
For  'tis  mcn-yruieny  Christmas, 

And  though  never  a  rose  may  blow. 
Yet  the  green  leaves  dance  and  glitter 

Tlu'ough  the  wreaths  of  the  spotless  snow  ! 


THE     LOVER     KING. 
I. 

ii  TIE  said:  'I  am  a  crowned  King, 

Y\     Maiden,  gentle  maiden  ! 
And  I  love  the  loveliest  flower  of  spring, 

Thou'lt  be  my  bride,  sweet  maiden  ?' 
Then  the  words  that  once  thou  heardst  from  ms 

Were  spoken,  spoken. 
And  the  sacred  a'ow  I  made  to  thee 

Was  broken,  broken  ! 

II. 

"  Thy  rival  has  a  brow  of  pride, 

So  fearful — oh,  so  fearful ! 
And  I  turned  at  first  from  his  glance  aside. 

All  shuddering  and  tearful. 


1C3  THE  LOVER  KINO. 

But  the  deep,  sad  darkness  of  his  eyes 

Grew  dearer,  dearer. 
As  I  drew,  with  hushing,  throbbing  sighs, 

Still  nearer,  nearer. 

in. 

"  Yes  !  I  was  thine,  but  that  is  o'er —        ' 
That  past  is  dimmed  and  faded; 

I'll  rest  no  more  at  the  cottage  door, 
By  the  clustering  ivy  shaded. 

Thy  love  I  know  how  true  and  warm, 
For  ever,  ever ; 

But  couldst  thou  break  this  mighty  charm  ? 
Oh,  never,  never  ! 

"  He  holds  my  hand  within  his  own. 

Ho,  my  lord  and  lover, 
And  his  clasp  is  as  cold  as  the  marble  Btone, 

But  it  will  loosen  never. 
He  tears  the  wreath  from  off  my  brow, 

In  showers,  in  showers — 
'  Thy  crown  shall  be  of  the  star-gems  now, 

Not  flowers,  pule  flowers  !' 


"  Onr  lips  are  pressed  in  that  solemn  plight — 

Strange,  the  joassionate  greeting 
Makelh  my  cheek  not  red,  but  white, 

Through  all  this  wild  heart-beating. 
Ilark  !   I  hear  his  step  again, 

Low  falling,  falUng, 
And  his  voice  is  not  in  vain. 

Still  calhng,  calling  1" 


LOOKING  m.  163 


LOOKING     IN. 

I. 

THE  shado-ws  of  the  evening  gather  faintly, 
Grey  and  pensive,  on  the  motintaiu  and  the  plaii? 
Bringing  memories  of  the  dead  time,  sad  and  saintly, 
Blended  strangely  in  a  low,  funeral  strain- 

II. 

Oh,  that  thought  the  earth  and  ocean  all  pervading, 
Brooding  over,  or  in  sunshine  or  in  rain, 

Tingeing  all  the  wide  horizon  with  its  shading, 
ILilling  slowly  with  the  poison  of  its  pain. 


in. 

My  soul's  deep  chords  have  all  too  high  a  tension. 
Wrought  to  fineness  far  beyond  this  mortal  clay  ; 

Standing  lonely  on  the  mountain  of  Ascension, 
Distant  far  I  see  the  piuer,  clearer  day. 


IV. 

Dying  of  the  longing  and  the  aspiration, 

Dying  of  the  sense  of  beauty  strung  to  pain — • 

The  burthen  of  a  mighty  desolation, 
And  the  dream  of  that  which  ne'er  will  come  again. 


161  THE  t   "ARVIAN  ANGEL. 


THE     GUARDIAN    ANGEL. 


THE  tempted  wife  at  midnight  sat  alone, 
Aud  round  the  dreary  house  was  heard  the  low  wind's  moan  ; 
And  dimly  fell  the  shadows  on  the  wall, 
Of  the  trees  outside,  the  windows  dark  and  tall. 


n. 

She  listens  not,  I  wis,  the  breezj'  wail, 

Nor  looks  upon  the  tangled  shadows,  faint  and  pale, 

She  watches  for  a  step  she  should  not  hear, 

Aud  a  form  that  oucrht  no  longer  to  be  dear. 


III. 

"  My  husband  is  a  man  of  cruel  sin  ; 
Aud  long  and  long  I  dreamed  and  hoped  his  heart  to  win, 
But  vaiu  was  all,  through  years  of  grief  and  shame, 
Aud  I  cast  from  me  for  aye  his  name  and  fame. 

IV. 

"  I  loved  him  not  with  youth's  first  holy  love  ; 
But  love  would  grow  again,  I  said,  from  light  above, 
For  me,  the  wedded  one,  would  now  remain 
Of  the  bitter  past  no  shade  of  care  or  pain. 


"  No  pulse  wilhin  my  heart  e'er  beat  untrue  ; 
I  fjnenchcd  withia  my  soul  each  dream  that  once  I  knew. 
Through  day  and  night  I  stnaggled  with  my  wrong — 
But  no  more  to  him,  the  tyrant,  I  belong  ! 


TIIE  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  163 


TI. 


"  My  darling  "baby,  withered  at  my  bieast, 
Ah  !  faded  as  the  shadow  when  the  light  is  past  ; 
Then  flashed  the  levin  bolt,  the  storm-wind  blew, 
Till  from  out  the  night  of  grief  a  dark  thought  grew. 


Til. 


"  Sad,  burning  tears  fell  o'er  (he  golden  hair, 
The  waxen-rounded  cheek,  so  lily-soft  and  fair — 
There  was  a  seraph  gone  to  seek  the  sky. 
And  a  sinner  left  on  earth  to  mourn  and  die. 


nil. 


"  Then  memory  rose  and  whispered  in  mine  ear, 

Till  olden  feeling,  long,  long  chilled  came  rushing  near  ; 

Oh,  not  as  once  in  garb  of  heavenly  white. 

But  all  gloomy,  black  and  wild  as  winter's  night. 


rx. 


"From  Hope's  pale  ashes,  smouldering  on  the  hearth, 
Eose  up  the  lurid  flame  of  Passion's  second  birth- 
Love  !   love  1— oh,  call  it  not,  that  curse  so  fell, 
That  descends  upon  the  soul  like  a  demon  spell. 


X. 


"  Its  grasp  of  iron  seizes  on  my  heart, 

And  from  a  hapless  home  this  lone  hour  I  depart, 

Far,  far  away  to  sorrow  and  to  sin"  — 

Lo  !  a  form  is  there  the  dreary  room  within. 


XI. 


A  bright  star  glitters  through  the  heavy  gloom  ; 
And,  waving  o'er  her  head,  she  sees  a  sno\\-y  plume ; 
And  into  hers  look  do^ra  twaeycs  of  blue, 
With  the  light  of  seraph  love,  so  pure  and  true. 


IM  PSYCHES  DREAM. 

XII. 

"  I  am  an  angel  near  tlio  awful  throne, 

And  from  my  home,  to  save  you,  hither  I  have  flown. 

The  babe  that  nestled  iu  your  breast  and  died 

Is  thy  guardian-spirit  now,  to  bless  and  to  guide  ! 

xm. 
"  The  love  thou  gavest  on  earth,  so  strong  and  rare, 
Tor  aye  in  Heaven  now  thy  little  one  will  share  ; 
And  thou  shalt  fondle  me  another  day. 
If  this  horn-  on  bended  knee  thou'lt  kneel  and  pray," 

XIV. 

Then  slowly  fades  the  vision  fi'om  her  view. 

The  snowy,  waving  plume,  the  eyes  of  angel  blue; 

And  as  her  tears  fall  do^^•n  in  stormy  rain, 

From  her  soid  hath  passed  away  the  guilty  stain. 


PSYCHE'S     DREAM. 

IN  wreathf-d  bowers  of  asphodel. 
Beneath  that  sweet  and  wondrous  spell, 
A  while  bird  nestling  in  the  sun. 
She  leans,  the  loved  and  lo%-ing  one. 
Soft  and  still  in  her  perfect  rest. 
Decked  by  the  light  that  warms  her  breast, 
Calm  as  a  May-cloud,  dreaming  on, 
No  hope,  no  wish — for  all  is  won. 
Two  snowy  wings  enfold  her  round, 
Two  gentle  eyes  look  into  hers. 
Bright  as  the  daj'-god's  brightest  beams, 
Pure  as  the  holy  stars — • 
Fathomless  blue — as  the  glorious  Bides, 
Veiling  unspeakable  mysteries  I 


NEAR  ME.  167 

Pale,  rosy  cloudlets  float  above, 

No  whisper  stirs  the  lotos  leaves, 

But  one  loug,  golden  Aveb  of  light. 

The  silence  gently  weaves. 

There  is  no  sound,  not  ev'n  a  breath; 

It  seems  not  life — yet  is  not  death, 

But  the  everlasting  dream  of  youth. 

The  full  content  of  Love,  in  sooth. 

The  vision  glorious  and  all-seeing, 

To  pierce  the  heights  and  depths  of  being. 

The  breathless  hush  of  happiness. 

That  cannot  be  more,  that  ■will  ne'er  be  less. 

As  if  each  spring  of  joy  had  met 

Wilhin  one  vast,  eternal  ocean, 

"Which  there,  in  deep,  imperial  trance. 

Slept  -without  -wave  or  motion — 

As  if  no  change  might  ever  come, 

As  if  no  shade  could  ever  fall. 

But,  bound  within  a  magic  ring. 

Were  Time  and  change  and  all ! 


NEAR     ME. 

I. 

VTEAR  me,  near  me, 

]}{     This  heart  never  knowing. 

Strong  as  its  tide  for  thee, 

Ever  is  flowing. 
"Was  there  no  spell 

In  my  love  or  my  sadness, 
To  bring  me  a  moment 

This  OTie  gleam  of  gladness  ? 


168  NEAR  ME. 


n. 


Near  me,  near  me, 

And  I  was  still  lonely, 
Winds  and  the  stars  of  night 

Wai  ched  with  thee  only. 
Even  the  dark  waye 

Might  bound  on  to  meet  thee, 
While  never  a  welcome 

From  my  lips  might  greet  thee  ! 


m. 

Near  me,  near  me, 

And  now  it  is  over, 
O'er  hill  and  wild  again 

Thou  art  a  rover  ; 
But  that  old  haunt. 

So  still  and  so  hoary, 
Shall  shino  evermore 

With  a  Ught  and  a  glory  ! 


IV, 

Near  me,  near  me, 

In  sorrow  and  danger, 
Hadst  thou  none  near  to  thee 

But  the  cold  stranger  ? 
Was  there  no  hand 

Or  no  heart  of  affection, 
To  cheer  or  to  cherish 

With  fond  recollection  ? 


ON  THE  HEIGHT.  169 


ON     THE     HEIGHT, 


UP  on  the  dreary  mountain  peak, 
Engirt  with  ice  and  snow, 
The  warm,  gi-een  world,  the  human  world. 

Ten  thousand  feet  below  ; 
And  yet  no  nearer  Heaven,  for  all 
The  grandeur  and  the  glow. 


Far  off  from  earth,  far  off  from  Heaven, 

Beneath  the  river's  flow. 
Dim  through  the  mist  the  green  boughs  wave. 

The  summer  roses  blow, 
"While  on  the  mountain  peak  I  stand. 

Engirt  with  ice  and  snow. 

ni. 

Far  off,  far  off,  the  loving  world — 

The  world  of  long  ago. 
The  phantoms  flit,  all  pale  and  faint. 

As  evening  shadows  grow — 
And  echoes  come,  with  wailing  sound, 

From  hollow  depths  below. 

IT. 

Pure,  cold  and  calm,  the  starry  host 

Have  given  my  soul  to  know 
The  essence  of  all  lofty  things  ; 

But,  ah  !   the  price  is  woe. 
The  heaven  of  love  is  sealed  above. 

And  earth  is  far  below  ! 

8 


170  THE  LIVIXG   AND    THE  DEAD. 


THE     LIVING    AND    THE     DEAD. 

I. 

ii  pOME,  Mother,  come  !" 

\j  Low  those  baby  voices  murmur  in  mine  ear  ; 
Gently,  softly  to  the  heavenly  home, 

Loving  baby  arms  still  draw  me  near. 
And  I,  from  earthly  pain  and  grief  unending. 

Am  beckoned  onward  to  the  purer  day, 
Where  they,  the  little  "shining  ones,"  are  standing, 

To  clasiJ  me,  freed  from  taint  of  human  clay  ! 

IT. 

"Stay,  Mother,  stay!" 

Thrilling  is  the  cry  from  this  poor  world  of  sin. 
"We,  thy  earth-ones,  fainting  on  the  way, 

Leave  us  not  amid  the  hideous  din  !" 
Strong  those  little  arms  to  earth  enthralling — 

More  their  need — and  I  must  turn  away 
From  angel  smiles  and  angel  voices  calling. 

To  toil  and  wait  until  the  allotted  day  !" 


QUEENSLAND. 


THOU  art,  in  sooth,  a  lovely  land. 
As  fair  as  ever  fancy  painted. 
In  virgin  freshness  calm  and  bland, 

By  shadows  dark  untainted. 
But,  ah  !  upon  that  bright  expanse, 

The  glory  of  a  clime  Elysian, 

'Tis  but  a  cold  and  soulless  glanco 

That  meets  the  gazer's  vision. 


QUEENSLAND.  171 


n. 


No  poet  fancies  o'er  thy  skies 

Sprciid  tints  Ihat  hallowed  live  for  ever; 
No  old  tradition's  magic  lies 

On  mountain,  vale  and  river  ; 
There  ia  no  heart  within  thy  breast, 

No  classic  charm  of  memories  hoary. 
No  footprint  hath  old  Time  imprest 

On  thee  of  song  or  story. 


in. 

O  barren  land  !    O  blank,  bright  sky  1 

Methinks  it  were  a  noble  duty 
To  kindle  in  that  vacant  eye 

The  light  of  spirit-beaiity — 
To  fill  with  airy  shapes  divine 

Thy  lonely  plains  and  mountains, 
The  orange  grove,  the  bower  of  vine. 

The  silvery  lakes  and  fountains. 


IV. 

To  wake  the  voiceless,  silent  air 

To  soft,  melodious  numbers  ; 
To  raise  thy  lifeless  form,  so  fair, 

From  those  deep,  spell-bound  slumbers. 
Oh,  whose  shall  be  the  potent  hand 

To  give  that  touch  informing, 
And  make  thee  rise,  O  southern  land, 

To  life  and  poesy  warming  ? 


173  A  FAREWELL. 


A     FAREWELL. 

TT70E  !  oh,  woo  ! — for  thee — for  me, 
\  y       'Twere  -well  no  day  had  ever  dawned, 
Ere  this  black  gulf  of  misery 

So  fearfully  had  j-awned. 
The  hopes,  the  dreams  of  early  spring, 

Beneath  thai  withering  curse  are  dead. 
As  if  Azracl's  sable  wiug 

Upon  the  blast  had  sped. 


There  is  no  hope  from  earth  or  sky 

Upon  this  sea  of  dark  despair  ; 
Not  one  wild  wave  that  dashes  by 

May  calm  for  plaint  or  prayer. 
'Tis  voiceless — nameless — shapeless  all, 

This  crushing  weight  on  heart  and  brain, 
Though  time  and  change  around  may  fall. 

For  Uds  they  fall  in  vain  ! 


ni. 

Farewell,  farewell,  though  nought  might  be 

Of  wrong  or  woe  I  would  not  dare, 
No  deadly  doom  of  agony 

For  those  bright  dreams  that  were. 
Thou  knowest,  alas  !   'tis  all  in  vain, 

We  may  not  break  the  fearful  spell. 
Though  heart  and  soul  be  rent  in  twain, 

'Tis  only  now— farewell ! 


ONE  JOT.  1T3 


ONE    JOY 


MY  morning  clrcamR  are  sadly  floTvn, 
My  thoughts  arc  bright  no  luoro  ; 
Tlope,  joy  and  fame  from  me  are  gone. 

That  fair  and  shining  store. 
The  spell  is  fled  from  vale  and  hill, 
-From  stream  and  mountain  blue, 
Those  dreams  are  gone,  no  more  to  smile- 
I  have  no  dream  but  you  ! 


n. 

I  have  no  dream  or  joy  but  you 

Witliin  the  world  to-day  ; 
One  star  alone  still  burns  as  true, 

To  Ught  my  dreary  way. 
Mine  were,  indeed,  a  gloomy  sky, 

"Without  that  love  of  thiuo, 
And  I  will  ask  no  other  light 

"While  I  can  call  it  mine. 

nr. 

Oh,  dearer  than  a  thousand  joys 

That  om  alone  to  mo — 
'Mid  precious  things  that  time  destroys 

Thy  love  will  never  flee. 
The  lamp  within  the  lonely  tomb, 

The  pearl  within  the  sea, 
They  uro  not  brighter,  'mid  the  gloom, 

Than  is  that  love  to  me  ! 


I7i  227^  RUINED  LTRE. 


THE     RUINED     LYRE. 


I  SEIZED  the  lyre,  find  would  have  sung 
That  burning  tale  of  other  years — 
The  love,  the  grief,  that  madly  wrung 
From  out  my  heart  Ihe  bitter  tears  ; 
I  would  have  sung  my  blighted  youth, 

Bereft  of  every  golden  dream, 
Its  morning  hopes  of  trust  and  truth, 
Lilie  dead  weeds  floating  down  the  stream. 

n. 

But  as  I  touched  the  trembling  string, 

"With  lowering  brow  and  flashing  eye, 
Came  Passion  on  its  sable  wing, 

And  rent  the  chords  in  passing  by. 
"Poor  wretch,"  he  said,  with  laugh  of  scorn. 

"  Wouldst  thou,  indeed,  essay  to  tell 
What  in  mine  empire  hath  been  born. 

By  any  power  of  mortal  spell  ?" 

TO.. 

So,  drooping,  chilled,  I  seek  in  vain 

From  those  sad,  broken  chords  to  win 
The  truthful  tones  that  I  would  fain 

Evob'e  from  this  wild  tempest  din. 
Though  memory  try  with  skilful  hand 

To  tell  the  tale  at  Love's  desire. 
It  comes  not  forth  at  her  command. 

From  this  x>oor  rent  and  ruined  lycQ  \ 


WRECKS.  175 


WRECKS 


I. 

DOWN  in  the  depths  of  my  spirit, 
Down  in  the  fathomless  sea, 
Wrecks  \\Y>on  -m-ecks  are  buried 

Of  a  rich  argosy. 
In  the  brown  sea-weed,  tangled, 

Skeleton  things  abide, 
Silver  and  gold  are  mingled. 
Jewels  of  kingly  pride. 

II. 

I  seek  in  the  depths  of  my  spirit. 

Seek  for  the  treasures  rare  ; 
Down,  Uke  a  weary  diver, 

I  dive  for  the  pearls  fair. 
Eut,  ah  !  from  the  bleak  abysses 

No  jewels  I  bear,  nor  gold, 
But  only  from  fragments  scattered 

The  skeletons  white  and  cold  ! 


EPITAPH     ON     A    SINNER. 

PLACE  not  over  me,  the  rich  man  cricth, 
From  the  cold  earth  where  he  mouldering  lieth. 
On  the  promptings  of  your  pride  or  anguish, 
Stately  tomb  of  marble  where  I  languish. 
Sculptured  marble,  snowy  white  or  painted, 
Serveth  not  to  hide  this  carcass  tainted  ; 
Dense  the  walls  that  should  its  foulness  cover, 
Dense  and  dark  that  lie  might  see  it  never. 
For  the  tomb,  then,  of  my  deep  perdition. 
Tear  the  Titan  mountains  from  their  station  ; 


176  GLIMPSES. 

In  your  mercy,  quickly  bring  them  hither, 
Pile  them  o'er  me  mass  on  mass  together. 
And  when  that  dread  trumpet  londly  rages 
That  through  all  the  everlasting  ages 
Kame  of  mine  bo  seen  not  in  those  pages, 
"When  the  curst  and  blest  receive  their  wages  1 


G  L  I  ]\I  P  S  E  S . 


SOIME  low  wind  whispers  through  my  soul  to-day, 
And  wafts  me  faintly  down  the  mystic  tide 
Of  long-lost  youth,  and  hope,  and  early  dreams, 
"Where  shadows'  murmurs,  dim  and  sile-nt  gleams 
Around  me  swiftly  flit,  and  float,  and  glide. 
Till  fades  the  present  from  mine  eyes  avray  ! 

n. 

The  curtain  rustles  in  th'  enchanted  air, 
And  glimpses  through  its  mystic  folds  I  see, 
"With  happy  tears,  and  mournful  smiles  that  deep 
"Within  my  bosom's  troubled  waters  sleep — 
There  are  such  lights  and  s;hades  of  memory, 
Such  trembling  music  in  the  years  that  were  ! 

in. 

The  horizon  widens  round  mo  clear  and  blue, 
And  thoughts  glide  in  that  faded  long  have  been. 
With  magic  swiftness  to  my  eager  ej*js, 
And  breathings  come  that  seem  of  Paradise. 
Fresh  breezes  blow,  from  forests  cool  and  green, 
In  that  far  land  so  long  concealed  from  view  ! 


8* 


DE  PROFUNDIS.  177 

DE     PROFUNDIS. 

[nineteenth  CENTUItr  PHILOSOPHEIJ,    LOQmTtJK.l 


DREAMEES,  thinkers  of  the  endless  ages, 
Seek  no  more  to  read  the  mystic  pages  ; 
Lie  do\\-n  moaning  in  yoixr  darkened  cages, 
As  the  wounded  lion  chafes  and  rages, 
Yon  that  strive  with  pulses  madly  burning, 
And  the  wild  brain  into  darkness  turning. 

n. 

Eagles  that  on  wings  of  pride  ascending, 
Fain  would  pierce  the  bhie  vault  o'er  us  bending, 
Ileaits  that  writhe  with  Ihat  desire  unending. 
Vainly  still  your  clay-made  hovel  rending. 
Question  not — for  you  comes  no  replying 
From  the  night  and  silence  round  you  Ijing. 

in. 

Ask  not  of  the  dead  nor  of  the  living. 
In  the  frenzy  of  thy  proud  misgiving, 
Past  and  present  all  their  lave  euweaving, 
Biing  for  thee  no  power  of  calm  believing — 
Silence  only  to  thine  invocation. 
Through  the  ^vilderness  of  vast  creation  ! 

iv. 

Thou  shalt  know  not  by  the  might  of  science, 
Thou  shalt  know  not  by  thy  self-reliance 
Nor  by  all  thy  scorufuJ  soul's  defiance. 
Banded  for  the  strife  in  gi-and  alliance — 
S  lint  nor  saer  those  ebon  walki  shall  sunder. 
Hiding  from  thine  eyes  the  land  of  wonder. 


178  DE  PROFXrXDIS. 


Moons  and  suns  Eliall  rise  in  endless  glorj', 
"Worlds  on  worlds  be  born  and  perish  hoa'.y, 
As  leaves  beneath  the  tempest's  stormy  foray  ; 
But  Time  to  thee  shall  ne'er  reveal  the  story. 
Though  thou  try  to  read  through  mj-th  and  fable, 
Dense  before  thee  hangs  the  curtain  sable. 


VI. 

Love  shall  rise  within  thee  wildly  surging, 
Passion  lift  thy  soul  with  demon  scourging  ; 
Titan  weapons  from  its  furnace  forging, 
Onward  to  the  battle  ever  urging. 
To  that  war  of  endless,  vain  aspiring, 
Power  and  knowledge  for  the  doomed  requiring. 


VII, 

Pain  shall  fling  across  thy  brow  its  shading, 
Sorrow  in  thy  bosom  live  imfading. 
Question  ye  in  bitterness  upbraiding  ? 
Life  but  droops  beneath  its  heavy  lading — 
On  its  sad  horizon  ne'er  shall  brighten 
One  faint  gleam  the  darkness  to  enlighten. 

VIII. 

Down  the  gulf  cf  the  Unknown  arc  tiimbhng 
Stone  on  stone-  with  loud  and  hollow  rumbling 
Listening  on  the  brink  with  fear  and  trembling. 
Ho  that  casts  them  learns  but  lessons  humbling, 
Hears  but  echoes,  mournful  and  appiiUing, 
Through  the  abyss  unfathomed  vaguely  calling. 


THE  MAGIC  GLASS.  179 


THE     MAGIC     GLASS. 

I. 

rr  a  desert  waste  of  Arctic  snow 
An  oU  mr.a  w.mderecl  to  and  fro  ; 
"Wild  and  weird,  a:s  if  within  the  deeps 
Of  those  sad  eyes  the  love  of  ages  sleeps. 
Ha  had  risen  from  the  long,  long-dreaming  tomb, 
And  on  with  weary  step  went  seeking  thi'ough  the  gloom 

11. 

Still  seeking,  seeking  with  a  chill, 

Amid  the  darkness  dr  -ad  and  still ' 

Through  the  ice-bound  region  of  despair, 

For  some  faint  glimmer  of  the  days  that  were. 

Vainly  groping  for  that  secret,  hidden  chain 

That  bound  him.  mortal,  once  to  human  joy  and  pain. 

nr. 

He  stood  before  a  magic  glass. 

To  watch  the  flickering  shadows  pass — 

Arms  outstretched,  and  eyes  that  longing  strain  • 

"  Come  back,"  he  cried,  "fair  form  ;  come  back  again  !" 

As  downward  sank  in  shadow  from  his  sight 

A  shape  of  rose-bloom  and  of  starry  light. 

IV. 

"  Tes,  that  was  Love, "  he  muttered  low. 

"Did  I  not  know  him  long  ago  ?' 

The  spectre  feels  not,  but  remembers  well — 

He  feels  not,  but  remembers  that  old  spell: 

"  O  Love  !   wilt  thou  return  no  more  ?"  ho  faintly  said. 

"Within  the  frozen  silence  all  was  dark  and.  dead  I 


180  A   PRESENCE. 


V. 


Before  him  still  the  shadows  flew. 

Another  ho  would  beckon,  too. 

"I  the  dead  one  saw  her  at  my  side — 

Hope,  my  youth's  iirst  fair  and  gentle  bride  : 

One  smile  of  thine,  the  frozen  waste  to  thaw !" 

False  as  a  dream — no  more  the  shade  he  saw. 

VI. 

With  hands  prest  on  his  drooping  brow, 

Still  lower  bent  the  old  man  now  ; 

"  Am  I,  in  sooth,  to  wander  all  alone 

Upon  the  earth  ?"  he  said,  with  shuddering  moan 

"  Ev'u  thy  presence,  Sorrow,  fain  would  I  behold, 

To  fill  the  pulseless  blank  of  being  still  and  cold  1" 

VII. 

But  Sorrow,  with  averted  eye. 

Swept  on  her  sable  ijiniona  by  ; 

In  that  wide  waste  of  vacant,  tor^iid  death, 

For  him  might  breathe  again  no  quickening  breath  : 

"Within  the  magic  circle  of  that  frozen  rim. 

Love,  Hope  and  Sorrow — all  alike  were  dim  1 


A     PRESENCE. 


BLACK  as  sable  in  the  sunlight,  still  it  tracks  my  footsteps 
weary  ; 
White  as  snow  within  the  midnight,  at  my  side  it  moves  along — 
A-waking  or  a-rslccping,  bo  the  scene  or  bright  or  dreary, 
The  ghastly  thing  is  moving  still  amid  the  hurrying  throng. 


A   PRESENCE.  181 

II. 

Como  no  nearer,  ali !  I  pray  thee,  come  no  nearer  in  thy  boldness, 
Sec  !  I  tremble  in  my  terror  lest  face  to  face  wo  stand — 

My  heart  is  shrinking  strar  gely  with  a  stony,  deathly  coldness 
At  the  glances  of  thy  spectral  eye,  the  touches  of  thy  hand. 

III. 

No !  I  cannot  face  thee — cannot !  though  thou  follow,  never 
ceasing, 
Though  thou  seekest  to  stay  mg  ever — ever  crave  to  meet  mine 
eyes  ; 
Panting  fearful,  still  I  hurry  with  a  loathing  aye  increasing, 
To  tho  cruel  shape  that  follows,  as  a  vulture  ravening  flies. 

IV. 

Oh,  it  is  not  of  the  living,  oh,  it  is  not  of  the  breathing  ; 

"Why  fear  the  dead,  pale  soitow  laid  to  rest  so  long  ago  ? 
As  we  feel  the   awful  terror  throiigh  our  nerves   and  senses 
seelhiug, 

■\Mien  the  grave  sends  back  a  spirit  to  haunt  om-  path  below  ! 

V. 

Spectral  presence-— awful  presence  !  no,  in  sooth,  I  cannot  face 
thee  ! 
Nerve  and  sinew  fail  and  quiver  when  I  think  of  thee,  abhon-ed  ; 
Not  by  tears  drawn  hot  and  scalding  from  the  heart's  recess  wo 
trace  thee. 
But  (he  red  drops  that  come  pouring  from  the  smiting  of  the 
Bword. 

TI. 

Oh,  my  sorrow  !  oh,  my  sorrow  !   dweller  of  the  deep  abysses, 
Oh,  for  blindness  on  mine  eyelids  !   oh,  for  deafness  to  mine 
car ! 

Ere  I  hear  again  anigh  me  thy  fearful  serpent  hisses. 

Ere  I  see  thy  cruel  shadow  on  my  pathway  hovering  near  ! 


182  TO    WILLIE. 


TO    WILLIE. 


IN  then  again,  sweet  baby  mine, 
This  heaii  hath  found  Creation's  morning, 
And  Memory's  cold  and  midnight  gloom 
Is  now  to  Hope's  fair  sunlight  turning. 
Oh,  soft  as  stars  in  evening's  dew 
Look  into  mine  those  eyes  of  blue  ! 

rt. 

Bright  days  of  spring  come  back  again, 

As  once  they  were,  all  fresh  and  golden, 
With  all  their  wealth  of  budding  flowers, 
Since  thou  wert  in  those  arms  cnfolden — 
Since  first  I  saw  the  witching  hue 
Of  those  sweet  baby  eyes  of  blue. 

III. 

Low  drooping  with  the  grief  of  years, 

Thy  mother,  sad  and  pale  and  fading, 
Had  dreamed  her  youth  were  cokl  and  dead 
For  aye  beneath  that  sombre  shading  ; 
But,  ah  !   what  young  life  thrills  anew 
Through  mc,  from  those  dear  eyes  of  blue  ! 

rv. 

Thou  hast  awakened  in  my  heart 

Again  its  deep  and  strong  emotion  ; 
A  love  like  first  love,  warm  and  pure, 
And  Faitli  and  Hope  and  (rue  devotion — 
What  draughts  of  Lovc'^s  own  nectared  dew, 
I  drink  from  those  sweet  eyes  of  blue  ! 


MAEGARET  FULLER  OSSOLL  183 

T. 

Oh,  child  of  all  sweet  dreams  fulfilled, 

White  peail  within  my  soul's  deep  lying  I 
Around  thee  brightly  green  again 
Bloom  out  glad  thoughts  that  once  were  dying — 
Yes  !  calm  again  is  life,  and  true, 
Seen  through  those  darling  eyes  of  blue  ! 


IMARGARET     FULLER    OSSOLL 


0WO:\IAN  of  the  mighty  soul ! 
Thou  hast  not  lived  in  vain, 
Although  the  wondrous  power  be  stilled 

Of  that  large  heart  and  brain. 
For  one  deep  thought  thy  spirit  knew, 

Within  its  burning  deep, 
Ten  thousand  now,  from  other  hearts 
Exultingly  Tvill  leap. 

n. 

We  mourn  not  that  the  gifted  die — • 

They  do  not  pass  away  ; 
Their  dying  brecdh  is  that  of  Ufa 

For  other  human  cluy. 
What  golden  thoughts,  what  noble  deed, 

Thy  woman's  voice  hath  sown  ; 
Thou  wert  the  winged  and  wandering  seed 

The  winds  of  Heaven  hath  sown  I 


IM  SONNETS. 


SONNETS. 


SO^IE  hand  hatli  rudely  seized  my  life's  sweet  lyre 
Aud  turned  its  soul  of  music  all  astray, 
So  that  my  lingers  now  cun  only  play 
For  evermore  in  discords  harsh  and  dire. 
Yet,  wrested  from  its  harmony's  desire, 
It  still  hath  breathings  of  another  day — 
Some  sweet,  sad  notes  that  faintly  yet  aspire. 
Up  from  the  gloomy  chaos  of  decay. 
Lost  is  the  golden  key  which  could  alone 
My  being  tune  to  its  primeval  law. 
And  softly  forth  the  olden,  heavenly  tone 
Of  pre-ordainment,  natui'al  and  true, 
Fi'om  out  my  heart's  recesses  finely  draw, 
Tid  life  and  joy  upon  me  breathed  anew. 

n. 

A  black  thought  flew  athwart  the  noonday  sun — 

A  thought  of  terror,  madness  and  desijau-, 

And  all  things  withered  that  before  were  fair  ; 

And  a  deep,  frozen  silence  sat  upon 

The  sphere  of  wide  creation,  faint  and  wan. 

Life  shook  to  its  foundation,  l.iying  bare 

Such  scenes  as  well  the  eye  might  wish  to  shun. 

Illumed  by  Tophet'a  awful,  dusky  glare. 

And  linked  wiih  its  eternity  of  p::in. 

Is  there  no  hope  through  all  the  years  of  gloom — 

No  hope  for  this  wild  darkness  of  the  brain  V 

This  cold  death-sickness  at  the  heart  that  gnaws — 

This  giant  thought  of  hideous,  nameless  doom — 

This  raging  whui  that  knows  nor  sleep  nor  pause  ? 


SONNETS.  185 


III. 


There  is  .1  tumult  loud  my  heart  -within. 
As  of  fierce  waters  prisoned  far  below 
Dark  counter-currents  all  that  madly  flow, 
"With  wailing  voices  rising  through  the  din — 
Eegrets,  wild  memories  of  despair  and  sin, 
And  yearnings  vain  for  that  which  is  no  more, 
.  (Nor  grief  nor  frenzy  e'er  can  hope  to  win), 
Swell  upward  now  against  the  cavern  door — 
I  ask  not  words,  for  these  are  all  in  vain, 
To  breathe  again  of  aught  'twixt  thee  and  mo  ; 
But  that  one  moment  through  iliij  heart  and  brain 
The  lightniug-cunent  from  my  soul  would  sweep, 
Charged  with  each  throb  of  love  and  agony. 
Ere  yet  I  sink  to  mine  eternal  sleep  ! 


IV. 

Before  the  traveller  spread  a  lovely  scene,  * 
As  fair  as  Eden  in  its  primal  day — 
Wide  plains  and  hills  and  flower-gemmed  meadows  gay. 
And  orange-gi-oves  in  shining  gold  and  green. 
Wherein  a  stately  city  rose  serene, 
With  many  a  graceful  arch  and  dome  and  spire, 
Depictured  on  the  blue  air's  cloudless  sheen, 
And  glittering  in  the  crimson  sunset  fire. 
A  moment  from  that  loveliness  so  rare 
He  turned — then  soon  his  eyes  again  he  raised, 
And,  lo  !  where  once  had  shone  that  city  fair 
He  saw  a  putrid  lake  !    Ah,  me  !  have  not  those  eyes 
With  change  as  dire  and  sudden  once  been  dazed  ? 
One  moment.  Life  and  Love — the  next,  Grief's  darkest 
guise  ! 

*  Father  Kirscher,  the  Jesuit  ti  avelUr,  describes  this  ocjcvirrence  in  his  ac. 
couut  of  the  great  Calabriau  earthquake. 


185  STORM  IN  THE  BUSH. 


STORM     IN    THE     BUSH. 

I. 

ABEEATHLESS  stillness,  strange,  profound, 
Broods  o'er  the  plains  and  liills  arotmd  ; 
Low  gleams  the  sunset's  lurid  fire, 
'Mid  pallid  shadows,  gathering  higher. 
And  threatening,  muffled  tones  of  ire. 

II. 
"With  feathery,  curling  fringe  of  white, 
They  move  along  in  eagle  flight. 
That  smoke-hued,  ghastly  maze  of  clouds, 
Athwart  the  heavens,  in  serried  crowds, 
Like  spectres  walking  in  their  shrouds. 

m. 
Flash  on  flash,  and  peal  on  peal, 
Quiveiiug  darts  the  keen,  blue  steel — 
Quivers  and  shoots  afar,  anigh. 
Over  the  heavy  pull  of  sky, 
"Waiting  the  thunder's  dread  reply. 

IV. 

Flash  on  flash,  and  roll  on  roll. 

The  Heavens  shrink  "  like  a  parched  scroll,"— 

Question— answer — quick  and  loud, 

In  rhythmic  measure,  fierce  and  proud, 

Thi-ough  the  vast,  echoing  hulls  of  cloud  ' 

V. 

Still  gleams  the  blue  and  yellow  flash, 
And  falls  the  quivering  shock  and  crash, 
"Till  through  the  tumult  and  the  paiu 
The  canopy  is  rent  in  twain. 
And  comes  the  deluge  of  the  rain  ! 


THE  JEWEL  SEEKER.  187 


A  hush  to  all  the  fierce  assault ! —  _ 
Now  stills  the  trembling,  quaking  vault ; 
And  with  a  wild  and  elfin  glee 
The  lightning  laughs  and  dances  free, 
In  thousand  shapes  of  witchery  ! 

VII. 

Now,  fiery  serpents  intertwined  ! 
Now,  Eunic  letters  strange  combined  ! 
It  writhes — it  springs — it  quivers — lo  I 
In  globes  of  ruddy,  crimson  glow, 
It  shoots  and  falls  to  eartlf  below  1 

vm. 

From  out  the  strife,  all  pure,  serene, 
The  young  moon  rises  o'er  the  scene — 
She  flings  aside  her  cloudy  veil, 
And,  in  profile,  all  pearly  pale. 
Bends  loving  glance  o'er  hill  and  dale  ! 


THE     J  E  W  E  L  -  S  E  E  K  E  R  , 

ii  11 /TY  Lord  Apollo  !"  bowing  low,  I  said, 

J) ]_  "  Thou  who  hast  scattered  gems  of  priceless  worth 
To  the  four  winged  winds  that  sweep  the  earth. 
Wilt  thou  not  let  me  gather,  that  I,  too,  may  wear 
Some  in  the  gemless  crown  that  decks  my  poet  head  ? 
A  spark  of  Shakespeare  diamond,  perfect  all, 
Prisoning  the  sun  within  its  glowing  wall  ; 
Or  MUton  ruby,  grand  as  night — sublime, 
Piled  o'er  the  glories  of  the  starry  clime, 
Than  morning's  splendor  more  divinely  fair  1" 
"  No,  no,"  he  said,  "  I  hst  not  to  thy  prayer. 


1S3  ^EA  ITT  ly  LIFE. 

"To  thy  own  self  untrue  then  may'st  not  be, 

In  seeking  that  which  is  not  ti'uly  thine. 

Dcop  in  thino  inmost  soiil  search  out  the  hidden  mine 

Which  Nature's  hand,  I  -wis,  bestowed  on  thee  ; 

Albeit  no  gems  of  price  within  it  shine, 

Tet  do  I  bid  thoe  rather  prize  the  humblest  stone 

That  thou  may'st  call  in  honest  truth  thine  own, 

Thau  diamond,  ruby,  emerald,  chrysolite. 

Which  were  not  thine  by  true  and  sacred  right !" 


DEATH     IN     LIFE. 


■VflGHT-BLACK,  night-still,  night-cold ! 

|\|     A  waste  of  Polar  snow. 

Where  no  green  thing  th3  eyes  behold, 

Nor  cvei-more  can  grow. 
Thus,  thus  doth  life  appear. 

Struck  down  and  withered  all — 
The  days,  the  hours,  the  long,  long  years, 

Beneath  an  ebon  pall. 

n. 

A  fearful  icy  chill, 

A  dumbness  of  despair, 
A  silence,  bl.ickness,  deeper  still 

Than  Death's  gloom  ever  bare, 
Are  weighing  down  my  soul — 

Are  curdling  in  my  veins  ; 
No  mortal  eye  may  span  the  whole 

In  which  such  terror  reigns  ! 


NEVERMORE.  189 

m. 

It  is  a  chaos  dire  ; 

Nor  shap  ,5  nor  form  I  see, 
Bui  one  eternity  of  ire, 

As  far  as  tliought  may  be — 
A  something  that  eludes 

The  grasp  of  heart  and  brain — 
But  over  all  my  being  broods 

A  wild  and  frenzied  pain  ! 

IV. 

Amid  blacli:  ruins  T  grope, 

Bewildered  and  aghast — 
Blind,  deaf  and  speechless,  with  "  no  hope  " 

Above  me  looming  vast. 
It  s(!ems  as  Space  and  Time 

Had  burst  their  ocean  bed, 
And  all  the  surging  waters  chmb, 

And  close  above  my  head ! 


NEVERMORE. 


OH,  no  !   oh,  no  !   a  more  than  death, 
A  more  than  destiny  is  there  ; 
Some  deeper  gulf  than  ever  hath 

Been  imaged  by  despair 
Between  us  deepens.     Time  may  fly, 
And  world  on  worlds  be  born  and  die, 
But  on  the  far,  eternal  shore 
For  us  the  surging  waters  roar — 
The  mournful  dirge  of  nevermore  ! 


190  NEVERMORE. 


11. 


Again,  again  hot  tears  may  fall, 

And  in  each  heart  the  past  may  httrn  ; 
But  pangs  nor  longings  can  recall 

Dead  trust  from  out  its  urn. 
That  subtle  poison,  withering,  fell. 
And  through  the  ages  weaves  a  spell 
That  dies  not,  fades  not— to  the  core 
Of  being  pierces  o'er  and  o'er 
"With  that  undying  nevermore  I 


in. 


Some  hops,  perchance,  there  yet  may  be 

For  all  that  is  of  wildest  pain. 
Some  vision  dim  the  eye  may  t^ee 

Of  Love  that  blooms  again 
Some  ending  hath  all  other  woe. 
But  change  nor  ending  this  may  know  : 
Through  all  Time's  wild  and  whirling  roai 
Cold,  cold  and  dark  our  eyes  before, 
Is  writ  on  marble — nevermore  I 


rr. 


Oh,  no  !   oh,  no  !  for  us  the  blue 

And  pearly  clouds  unfold  in  vain  ; 
In  vain  beyond  we  seek  anew 

To  knit  the  broken  chain. 
There  is  a  thought  that  hath  no  tomb— 
A  nameless,  ceaseless  thought  of  gloom. 
That  on  the  far,  eternal  shore 
Stands  fixed  and  frozen  there  before— 
The  mournful,  silent— nevermore ! 


PICTURES  IN  THE  CLOUDS.  191 


PICTURES     IN    THE    CLOUDS. 

I. 

WHEN  evening  softly  closes, 
And  breezes  die 
Among  the  summer  roses, 

I  -wtitch  the  sky  ; 
Visions  of  mazy  wonder 

All  faintly  gleam — 
See,  they  are  passing  yonder, 
E'en  as  a  dieam. 

II. 
There,  as  in  magic  mirror^ 

Old  forms  arise, 
Some  now  are  drifting  nearer, 

In  phantom  guise. 
Eager  mine  eye  doth  follow 

Through  light  and  shade. 
As  through  the  breezy  hollow 

Those  pictures  fade. 

ni. 
From  halls  of  blue  and  amber, 

A  wtird  array, 
In  endless  windings  clamber 

Forth  to  the  day. 
Upon  the  wild  wind  flying, 

They  hurry  on, 
"While  memory,  faintly  sighing, 

Mourns  they  are  gone  ! 

IV. 

In  strange  and  varying  tissnea 

Of  smiles  and  tears. 
That  band  slill  onward  issues 

From  grey  old  years  ; 


192  nCTVRES  IX   THE  CLOUDS. 

Some  decked  in  robes  of  splendor. 
And  some  in  slirouds, 

Bui  passing  all  asunder, 
Those  pictm-e  clouds. 


Again  they  tire  unfolding, 

That  shadowy  throng, 
A  magic  power  is  moulding 

Their  march  along. 
Up  from  those  depths  so  sombre 

Old  dreams  in  crowds, 
Thiit  well  I  do  remember, 

Flit  in  the  clouds  ! 


TI. 

The  clustering  flowers  are  blowing, 

Of  that  bright  June, 
The  silvery  streams  are  flowing 

In  loving  tune. 
The  summer's  hoarded  treasure. 

Where  is  it  gone — 
Its  red  and  gold  and  aziu:e  ? — 

The  clouds  sweep  on  ! 


vn. 

Far  back,  far  back  returning, 

Still  more  I  see — 
With  thoughts  that  now  are  burning 

TumultuouKly. 
Fade  not,  O  glorious  vision, 

With  sunht  eyes, 
From  that  bright  land  Elysian, 

Within  the  skies ! 


> 


THE  LAUREATE  193 


THE     LAUREATE 


A    BEPLY      TO      THE       "■\VELCOM'E, 


I. 

THE  son  of  Her  who,  'spite  of  Nature's  power. 
Hath  made  thee  poet  in  her  wide  domain, 
Must  loathe,  I  fear,  the  wishy-washy  sti-ain 
"With  which  thou  greet'st  His  own  Imperial  flower, 

AKred  Tennyson . 

n. 

For  Russian  flower,  perchance,  a  welcome  meet, 
So  icy,  chilling,  sounds  thy  inissiah  Ijnre — 
Poor  Mario  !   home  and  love  must  rather  tire, 

If  thou  wilt  bore  her  with  thy  vain  conceit. 

Miss  Alfred  Tennyson ! 

ni. 
"  The  golden  news"  ('tis  gold  to  thee,  in  sooth — 
Thy  tiny  whistle  is  a  thing  of  tin  !)  — 
Doth  make  around  a  somewhat  deafening  din, 
As  thou  remarkedst,  with  poetic  truth, 

Alfred  Tennyson ! 

IV. 

The  voices  of  the  sea  (thou  mean'st  the  fish  !) 

Inspired  by  loyalty  no  more  are  mute — 
Canadian  pines  and  Maoris  follow  suit. 
And  all  together  make  a  dainty  dish- 
Miss  Alfred  Tennyson  ! 

V. 

"  In  lusty  life  both  empires  branching  fair" — 
Yet  Byron's  England  lists  to  Alfx/a  laj^s  : 
And  critics  wreathe  thy  brows  •«dth  deathless  bays, 
Thou,  seated  in  the  old  Wordsworthian  chair — 

Alfred  Tennyson. 
9 


194  THE  LAUREATE. 


YI. 


For  "peoples"  mostly  "are  as  waifs  that  R\dng, 
And  float  along"  with  Fashion's  ebb  and  flow  ; 
But  those  who  know  should  have  the  grace  to  snoi 

That  thou  art  neither  minstrel-prince  nor  king, 

Miss  Alfred  Tennyson. 

VII. 

I  wish  that  thou  wei-t  in  some  stranger  land, 

""Where  men  are  bold,  and  strongly  said  their  say  :" 
An'  if  thou  wert,  not  surely  here  to-day 

Shouldst  hold  the  laureate  sceptre  in  thy  hand — 

Alfred  Tennyson  ! 

■vm. 

"What  knowest  ihoii  of  full  life,  thon  puny  heart  ? 

The  current  in  thy  veins  diluted  flows —  ' 

Thou  sound'st  no  depth  of  human  joys  or  woes; 

sail  life  thou  paintcst  only  by  thine  ai-t — 

Miss  Alfred  Tennyson ! 

IX. 

Most  certainly,  thy  verse  wiU  never  "  wake 

Diviner  airs,"  nor  "  change  the  souls  of  men  ;" 
Thy  laboring,  incubating,  mooning  pen 

Perchance  the  taste  of  lettered  fops  may  take — 

AKrcd  Tennyson  ! 


"  Poefa  nasrAtur  nonfit,"  indeed  ! 

Why  groat  Victoria  proves  the  opposite  ; 

Her  hand  has  dubbed  him — and  she  must  be  right, 
And  so  that  thou  art  poet  ia  our  creed — 

Miss  Alfred  Tennyson  ! 


THE  SILENT  LAND.  195 


THE     SILENT     LAND. 

I. 

THEKE  is  a  wondrous,  vast  and  distant  realm, 
Oa  whoso  wide  seas  no  traveller  guides  the  helm  ; 
Through  whose  primeval  forests,  sadly  green, 
^Vhere  fruits  and  flowers  in  tangled  wreaths  are  seen, 
No  footstep  through  all  time  hath  ever  been. 

n. 

Strange  skies  are  there,  strange  stars  and  moon  and  sun, 
Strange  shapes  that  through  the  shadowy  darkness  run  ; 
And  birds  that  soar  aloft  on  radiant  plume, 
All  gorgeous  things  of  glory  afid  of  bloom. 
Circling  and  winding  through  the  silent  gloom. 

ni. 

A  glaucous  mist,  a  thin,  frail,  filmy  screen, 
This  world  and  ours  alone  divides,  I  ween  ; 
Some  cabalistic  word  at  length  is  told. 
And  backward  hath  the  mystic  curtain  rolled, 
When,  lo !   what  wonders  do  the  eye  behold  ! 

IV. 

The  realm  of  silence  !    Seek  thou  in  its  halls 
Of  fairy  spells  where  echo  never  calls  : 
Thither  have  fled,  like  winged  dreams,  away 
The  subtle  treasures  of  our  earthly  day, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  eye  or  ear  of  clay. 


More  wondrous  power  hath  passed  to  this  strange  land 
Than  e'er  the  mighty  gifted  may  command. 
Thither  hath  fled  the  poet's  thought  of  fire, 
Too  subtle  or  too  strong  in  its  desire 
For  the  weak  compass  of  the  tuneful  Ijtc. 


106  ONE  TnOUGHT. 

Tr. 

An  ppic  of  gi-cat  thoughts  that  fain  were  deeds. 
Flung  on  the  wild  winds  as  the  winged  seeds, 
Hath  tlouted  downward  on  the  silent  tide, 
And,  like  white,  towering  lilies  in  their  pride. 
In  deathless  bloom  for  ever  here  abide. 

TII. 

Here  gleam  the  regal  gems,  the  golden  store, 
By  passion  wasted  on  this  mortal  shore  ; 
The  truest  poesy  e'er  writ  or  sung 
Hath  been  in  heart-throbs  to  the  tempest  flung, 
Breathed  to  the  night-stars  in  a  silent  tongue. 

Tin. 

The  sighs,  the  tears  unanswered  and  unheard 
From  out  the  depths  of  love  and  sorrow  stin-ed. 
That  none  below  might  treasure  up  or  save, 
Thon'lt  find  within  this  dim,  mysterious  cave — 
This  wondrous  land,  as  silent  us  the  grave  ! 


ONE     THOUGHT. 


THOU  art  around  me  like  the  living  waters, 
Ptesonant,  ringing  ihrough  the  earth  and  air, 
Mysterious  music  from  the  depth  that  utters 
Etermil  thoughts  in  voices  strange  and  rare. 

n. 

Thee,  thee  alone,  for  ever  hearing,  seein;?, 
I  wander  silent  on  the  mournful  shore, 

With  all  the  vast  horizon  of  my  being 

Filled  up  with  that  one  thought  unto  its  core. 


TWILIGHT.  107 

III. 

Thou  wert  •v^^thin  my  summer  rich  .and  golden, 
The  soul  that  moved  within  my  dreams  of  song  ; 

"VVithin  the  winter's  gray  thou  art  enfolden  ; 
To  eveiy  throb  of  life  thou  dost  belong. 

IV, 

Yes,  thou  art  round  me,  near  me,  strangely  clinging, 
Undimmed  by  those  long  years  of  weary  pain  ; 

The  living  waters  with  their  music  ringing — 
The  one  dear  thought  for  ever  to  remain  ! 


TWILIGHT. 


I. 

IN  the  twilight  of  Urania, 
In  the  dim  and  silent  glades, 
Lonely  and  lorn  I  wander 

'Mid  the  pale  and  sorrowing  shades- 
Echoes  of  olden  music, 

Odors  from  blossoms  shed. 
Phantoms  of  love  and  gladness 
From  days  that  are  cold  and  dead. 

n. 

In  the  twilight  of  Urania, 

In  that  realm  so  still  and  grey. 
Lone  as  a  spectre  straying 

My  days  are  passing  away. 
Cold  and  grey  and  voiceless, 

Nor  passion,  nor  hope,  nor  fear. 
But  the  footstep  of  memorj'  falling 

All  drearily  on  the  ear. 


198  MATER  REDEMPTORIS. 


MATER     REDEMPTORIS. 


0  HAPPY  Mother  !  clasping  to  thy  breast 
The  b;ibe  new-born, 
Entranced  in  thy  golden  rest 

Of  Love's  own  mom. 
Maiden  mother,  with  the  drooping  eye 

And  lily  brow  ! 
None  purer,  fairer,  breathes  beneath  the  sky 
More  blest  than  thou  ! 


n. 

O  blest !  O  favored  !  thou  whose  parent-love 

May  thus  adore, 
And  feel  thy  deepest  throbs  can  never  prove 

Than  duty  more. 
O  thon,  of  Mothers  all,  the  only  one 

Beneath  the  skies 
Who  may,  unsinning,  kneel  before  thy  Son 

And  idolize ! 


in. 

O  Mother !  thou  whose  heart  can  never  know 

That  pain  of  pain 
That  others  feel,  whose  darUng  ones  lie  low 

With  sin's  dark  stain — 
O  thou,  whose  soul  can  never  quake  with  dread. 

Or  faint  in  gloom, 
Lest  Judgment  call  upon  the  lovdd  head 

Eternal  doom  I 


ON  THE  SEA.  199 

VI. 

Mother  of  our  Eedeemcr—  Mother's  heart ! 

Oh,  hear  the  prayer 
That  earthly  mothers  pour,  with  bitter  smart, 

In  their  desi:)air  ! 
"  Cause  of  our  Joy  !"  dispel  the  shades  of  grief 

That  loom  above  ! 
"Health  of  the  Weak!"  give  fainting  hearts  relief 

In  thy  deep  love  ! 


ON     THE     SEA. 


UNDEB  the  skies  of  the  Southern  Cross 
The  sails  are  swelling  to  the  breeze, 
"Where  skims  the  broad-winged  albatross 

Above  the  rushing,  sparkling  seas. 
Gaily  dancing,  on  wo  go. 

O'er  blue  waves  tinged  with  creamy  foam, 
Like  mountains  capped  by  dazzling  snow, 
Still  far  from  Erin — far  from  home  ! 

n. 

Through  sunny,  breezy  Capricorn 

The  sweet  airs  freshly  round  us  play  ; 
We  seek  the  fair  and  distant  bourne. 

Thus  dancing  onward,  wild  and  gay. 
With  speed  of  sea  birds'  pinions  light 

The  good  ship  hurries  through  the  foam, 
As  if  we  swept  not  in  our  flight, 

Far,  far  from  Erin — far  from  home  ! 


200  ♦  THE  LOST  MAT. 


THE     LOST     I\IAY. 


••  "l  FAY  comes  again,"  glad 
lU   "  Fair  May,  iu  all  her  i 


voices  Ring, 
tender  bloom, 
Soft,  fluttering  near  on  sei"apli  %ving. 

To  cbase  the  cloudy,  lingering  gloom. 
Our  loved  one — from  the  whirling  ring 

Of  Time — her  smiles  again  illumo 
The  earth  to-day,  the  earth  to-day — 
The  long-loved  smile  of  our  darling  Maj'  I" 

rr. 

The  young  laburnum  drops  its  gold, 

The  lilac  rears  its  clustering  head 
In  many  a  rich  and  heavy  fold, 

Till  all  the  air  ■with  scent  is  fed. 
It  is  as  it  hath  been  of  old. 

In  cunning  semblance  perfected  : 
All  bright  and  gay,  all  bright  and  gay — 

"  She  cometh,"  they  say,  "our  old,  old  May  !" 

iir. 

The  primrose  in  the  coppice  gleams, 

Vennihon  apple-blossoms  glow 
Beneath  the  light,  with  snowy  seams. 

And  dew-drops  in  their  cups  below. 
Soft  murmurs  break  from  silvery  streams, 

That  on  through  cool,  green  meadows  flow, 
And  BO  they  say,  and  so  they  say — 

"  'Tis  the  .same  sweet  face  of  our  long-lovcd  SLiy  !'* 


TBE  LOST  MAT.  20] 

IV. 

Ah,  is  it  so  ?    A  shadow  peers 

From  out  the  past,  with  pallid  hue, 
She  whispers  :  "  'Mid  the  culd,  dead  years 

She  lieth  low  whom  once  ye  knew. 
I  come  no  more  with  smiles  or  tears, 

Or  cloudless  skies  of  tender  blue. 
Within  the  clay,  within  the  clay — 

I  sleep  in  my  youth,  the  lost,  lost  May  !" 


Yes,  yes  !  she  lies  within  the  urn, 
The  moon,  her  crown,  grew  cold  and  wan, 

Until  on  breezy  cloudlets  borne, 
It  melted  slowly  and  was  gone  ! 

Yet  still  they  dream  of  her  return. 

The  same  that  once  before  them  shone, 

The  laughing  fay,  the  laughing  fay, 
,  That  withered  and  died— the  lost,  lost  May  ! 


n. 


Beyond  the  bounds  of  space  and  time, 

She  floated  to  the  silent  shore. 
The  sacred  seal  of  loss  sublime 

On  her  was  set  for  evermore. 
The  eyes  that  saw  her  in  her  prime, 

How  mournful  was  the  look  they  wore  ! 
When  thus  for  aye,  when  thus  for  aye, 

They  knew  she  was  gone— the  lost,  lost  May 


p* 


208  to  A  SPREAD  EAGLE. 

vn. 

Adovm  -with  her  on  that  dark  tide 

In  Booth  were  borne  some  precious  things, 
Such  forms  of  hfe  and  light  and  prido 

As  fancy's  early  morning  brings  ; 
And  dreams  in  rose-tints  glowing  dyed. 

That  soar  aloft  on  dizzy  wings, 
Ah  !  were  not  they — ah  !  were  not  they 

Once  linked  with  the  fate  of  the  lost,  lost  May  ! 

vni. 

Great  tho-ughts  that  spanned  the  heavenly  height, 

Deep  throbbings  of  a  breath  divine, 
And  Hope  and  Love,  half  hidden,  bright, 

Where  dewy  leaves  and  flowerets  twine. 
All,  all  have  flitted  from  the  sight, 

Oh,  nevermore  on  earth  to  shine — 
All  fled  away,  all  fled  away. 

On  the  phantom  wings  of  the  lost,  lost  May  ! 


TO    A    SPREAD    EAGLE. 

A    MIGHTY  flourish  of  trumpets, 
j\     A  tcnible  roll  of  drums, 
And,  lo  !   on  a  curvetting  Pegasus 

The  great  "  spread  eagle  "  comes. 
Kow  for  artistic  ijussion  1 

Erebus  !  Jupiter  1  Mars  ! 
Up  through  the  clouds  he  flies  from  us- 

Kever  to  reach  the  stars  ! 


nTMN  FOR   THE  MONTU  OF  MAT.  203 


HYMN    FOR    THE    MONTH    OF    I\IAY, 

I. 

HO"W  lovely  is  thy  face,  O  "Virgin  Mother  ! — 
A  lily  filled  with  moonlight's  crystal  dew  ; 
How  gentle  is  thy  smile,  O  holiest  Mother  ! 

Where  Love  and  Mercy  beam  for  ever  new. 
"White-winged  angels  near  thee  roam  in  gladness, 

0  Rose  of  Jesse''s  stem,  in  endless  bloom  ; 
Foul  demons  hear  thy  name  in  fear  and  sadness, 
And  fly  before  thee,  wailing  to  their  doom. 


II. 

Here,  at  thy  shrine,  soul-storms  are  calmly  luashing, 

Heart-pangs  are  healed  that  long  have  rankhng  lain, 
Sweet  tears,  Uke  silvery  showers  of  spring,  are  gushing. 

Where  once  were  poured  the  blistering  ih'ops  of  pain. 
Oh,  as  the  wintry  clouds  at  length  have  vanished, 

And  summer  comes  again,  with  sun  and  blue, 
All  earthly  passion  by  thy  name  is  banished. 

And  we  repose  in  Heaven's  o-wn  sunshine  true. 

in. 

As  leaves  and  flowers  are  round  us  brightly  blowing. 

In  this  fair  moon  of  promise  given  to  thee, 
May  Faith,  and  Hope,  and  Love  spring  out  as  glowing. 

And  green  within  our  hearts  for  ever  be. 
O  Rose  of  "Mystic  Beauty  !"  "  Star  of  Morning  !" 

Before  thy  shrine  we  lowly  bend  and  pray. 
While  Nature's  myriad  beauties,  now  returning, 

Hymn  forth  thy  praise,  O  glorious  Queen  of  May  ! 


aOi  THE  MEETINCE  OF   THE  SAINTS. 


THE     INIEETING     OF    THE    SAINTS. 

[St.  Patrick's  Day  in  San  Fbancisoo,  1877.] 


A  GUEST  is  come  that  should  not  wait 
A  welcome  hero  to  win — 
St.  Francis,  ope  the  Golden  Gate 

And  let  St.  Patrick  in  ! 
Oh,  meet  him,  and  greet  him — 

The  stranger  ever  blest — 
That  tiny  triplet  bearing 
Prom  the  green  Isle  of  the  West. 

II. 

He  bringeth  many  a  precious  store, 

To  place  at  thy  command  ; 
The  cherished  dreams  and  hopes  of  yore, 

The  memories  bright  and  bland — 
Upspringing  and  clinging, 

They  drink  thy  sun  and  dew, 
And  take  ^vith  spirit  loyal 

A  fairer  shape  and  hue. 

III. 

Ev'n  as  the  glory  of  a  dream 

That  sea  of  hills  is  seen, 
"While  all  its  velvet  billows  gleam 

In  violet  and  green  ; 
All  flowing  and  glowing, 

Beneath  the  morning  sun, 
As  o'er  the  crystal  waters 

The  saintly  bark  speeds  on. 


THE  MEETma  OF  TEE  SAINTS.  205 

rv. 

"  Here  smiles  the  Tir'  nan  Oge!"  *  he  said, 

"  With  strange  enchantments  fraught ; 
The  land  for  which,  in  ages  lied, 

My  children  vainly  sought ; 
Eternal  and  vernal, 

There  Life's  red  currents  flow, 
And  in  immortal  radiance 

The  flowers  of  Eden  blow. 


"  Here,  from  the  pure  and  living  spring, 

They  quench  their  weary  thirst, 
And  to  the  fostering  mother  cling. 

Their  fainting  souls  that  nurst. 
Oh,  tend  her,  defend  her, 

As  on  her  lofty  way. 
Through  storm  and  gloom,  she  marches 

Unto  the  perfect  day  !' ' 

VI. 

His  hand  is  raised — he  seems  to  bless 

Each  fair  and  fertile  plain  ; 
The  woods  and  hills  in  glowing  dress, 

The  fields  of  golden  grain  ; 
Each  mountain,  each  fountain, 

From  which  glad  rivers  flow. 
The  orange  groves  and  vineyards 

That  blossom  fair  below. 

TII. 

O  proud,  majestic  Cybele, 
Enthroned  in  strength  and  grace, 

"With  teeming  wealth  of  land  and  sea 
Clasped  in  thy  wild  embrace  ! 


••'Tir'  nanOge"— r.  «.,  The  Land  of  Youth. 


206  THE   YOUTH  AND  HIS  SHADOW. 

Enfolding  and  holding 

Withiu  those  circling  arms 

The  sacred  cause  of  Freedom, 
Secure  in  all  its  charms. 


TTII. 

Hail  to  thy  future,  bright  and  blest  ! 

Beheld  by  prophet  eye, 
Long  may  that  benediction  rest — 

That  prayer  be  heard  on  high  ! 
Entwining  and  shining, 

May  still  the  Shamrock  be, 
Where'er  the  starry  banner 

Waves  o'er  the  land  and  sea  ! 


THE    YOUTH    AND    HIS    SHADOW. 

A  TALE.  J\rorFKOM  iESOP, 

ATOUTH,  M-ho  was  of  stature  somewhat  small, 
Walked  one  fine  evening,  as  the  setting  sun 
Upon  the  ground  flung  shadows  vast  and  tall. 
Of  which  his  own,  conspicuously,  was  one. 
Before  liiri  eyes  it  spread  of  size  gigintic, 
A  true  rr-flection  of  himself,  h(!  thought ; 
And,  with  self-admiration  almost  frantic. 
He  never  dreamed  his  judgment  was  at  fault. 


A  DVBLiy  ROMANCE.  207 

•'Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  "  malicious  boobies  dare 

To  call  me  dwarf  ;  but  now  I  can  refute 

Their  calumnies.    My  full  dimensions  there 

Let  them  behold,  and  be  forever  mule  !" 

A  passer-by,  -who  listened,  could  not  choose  but  stare, 

And  gaze  upon  him,  ^nth  a  curious  snigger, 

To  see  the  manikin,  with  haughty  air, 

Point  out  what  he  believed  his  lofty  figure. 

At  length  he  cried  :  "  Alas,  conceited  elf  ! 

Are  you,  indeed,  so  laughably  demented 

As  to  believe  you  see  your  real  self 

By  that  colossal  shadow  represented  ? 

I  fain  would  tell  you,  creature  most  inflated, 

A  secret  that  will  make  you  less  elated  : 

A  strange,  illusive  power  surrounds  your  sphere, 

That  casts  your  shadow  as  it  stretches  here  ; 

Through  the  false  glare  of  vanity  and  pride, 

'Tis  thus  you  see  your  pigmy  form  so  magnified." 


A    DUBLIN    ROMANCE. 


X. 


ii  fVS.,  yes,  madam,  I  was  in  love  tremendously,  as  you  may 

\j        know, 
A  most  devoted  slave,  in  sooth,  before  your  beauty  bending  low. 
My  fancy,  poised  on  wandering  wing,  went  seeking  for  a  resting 

place. 
When,  at  the  railroad  terminus,  I  first  beheld  yom-  angel  face. 


208        ,  A  DUBLIN  ROMANCE. 

VL. 

"  '"Why,  here  she  is  !'  I  said,  '  at  last,  the  very  nymph  bo  long 

I've  sought !' 
And,  like  u  gudgeon  in  a  net,  that  moment  I  was  fairly  cavight. 
By  those  sweet  eyes  of  aziire  dyes,  that  snowy  brow  and  cheek 

of  rose, 
Those  nut-brown  bands   of    glossy  hair,   those  ruby  lips   and 

Grecian  nose. 

ni. 

"You  sat  amongst  the  waiting  crowd,  a  vision  for  a  poet's  \iew, 
Dressed  in  a  rich  brocaded  silk,  a  black  mantille  and  bonnet 

bhie  ; 
And  ample  was  j'our  graceful  form,  o'ersprcading  all  the  bench 

of  gi'cen. 
With  flounces  five  upon  your  skirt,  and  large  amount  of  crinoline  ! 


IV. 

"I've  dreamed,  as  poets  always  dream,  of  some  celestial  vision 

bright ; 
But  visions,  after  all,  arc  cold  as  moonbeams  on  a  frosty  night. 
How  much  more  sweet  your  glowing  charms,  which   deigned 

substantially  to  shine, 
Than  those  fair  snow-nymphs  of  the  brain   that  once   danced 

through  this  heart  of  mine  ! 


V. 

"  As  I  have  said,  I  was  your  slave  the  very  moment  first  we  met, 
But,  Heaven  and  earth  !   how  was  I,  now,  an  introduction  e'er  to 

get? 
Your  name,  address,  I  knew  them  not ;  I  was  a  stranger  in  tho 

town— 
When  Fate,  in  shape  of  'mutual  friend,'  soon  brought  me  to 

your  side,  Miss  Brown. 


A   DUBLIN  ROMANCE.  209 


"VT. 


•'  No  man  had  e'er  been  more  in  love — as  constant  as  your  shade 

was  I ; 
"Where'er  you  went,  I  followecl,  sure,  and,  hkc  a  bellows,  loud 

did  si"h. 

O 

I  !5aw  you  at  bazaar  and  ball,  at  theatre  and  shoAV  of  flowers, 
In    concert-rooms,   at    picnics,   too — ah !    these,   indeed,    were 
bhssful  hours. 

vn. 

"I  whisked  you  through  the  mazy  waltz — to  tell  my  feeling 

then  were  vain — 
You  looked  so  lovely  in  that  white,  soft-flowing  dress  of  tarlatane. 
With  berthc  around  your  beauteous  bust,  a  wxeath  of  roses  on 

your  hair, 
No  other  beUe  in  all  the  room  with  you  a  moment  might  compare. 


VTir, 

"I  wandered  throiagh  the  Four  Court  halls,  my  wig  awry  upon 

my  head  ; 
With  '  oh,  my  lady  !'  on  my  lips,  when  '  yes,  my  Lord  '  I  should 

have  said. 
Ah  !  little  did  I  care  for  briefs  —no  cause  but  one  cared  I  to  plead. 
When  I  at  length  revealed  to  you  how  this  poor  heart  did  ache 

and  bleetl. 

rr. 

"I  will  not  now  revert  to  all  j'oxi  said  to  me  upon  that  day — 
Enough,  one  little  word  you  breathed  sent  me  a  happy  man  away. 
Alas  !   alas  !  what  am  I  now  ?     I  curse  the  day  I  e'er  was  born. 
How  could  you,  heartlctjs  that  you  are,  thus  leave  me  all  my  life 
forlorn  ? 


aiO  A  DUBLIN  ROMANCE. 


"  I  -was  a  poor  young  man,  'tis  tnie,  but,  then,  in  time  I  fihould 

get  on 
At  my  i^rofession ;  Iotg  v?ould  aid,  ard  wealth  and  fame  at  length 

be  won. 
You  had  some  hundreds,  too,  'twas  said,  left  by  a  late  lamented 

aunt ; 
Our  difficulties  would  be  few,  for  state  or  style  I  did  not  pant ! 

XI. 

"But  you — a  house  upon  the  square,  a  carriage  and  a  brougham 

came, 
Presented  by  a  little  wretch,  whom  I  would  scarcely  deign  to 

name, 
And  then  you  'cut  me' — aye,  as  cool  as  if  we  ne'er  before  had 

met : 
Your  bridal  cards  I've  just  received,  '  Belinda  Bro^-n ' — now 

Mrs.  Brett!" 


.yrm^Q.. 


TRINSLITIONS. 


-^jt^o- 


'f^ 


Translations. 


THE     "LADY     FLY." 

[FKOM^THE  FBENCH  OF  VICTOE  HUGO.] 
I. 

ii  mHEPiE'S  something  teazing  me,"  she  said- 

J       I  look'd  auctar,  and  lo  ! 
Espied  a  little  insect,  red, 
Upon  her  neck  of  snow. 

11. 

I  should — ^but  fool  or  sage,  I  wis, 

At  sixteen  one  is  shy — 
Ha-ve  seen  \ipon  hor  lips  the  kiss, 

Ere  on  her  neck  the  fly  I 

in. 

It  looked  just  like  a  tiny  shell, 

Bose-hued,  black-speckled  o'er — 
The  chirping  birds,  to  see  ua  well 

Peeped  through  the  leafy  door. 

IV. 

I  bent  me  down  above  the  fair, 

Her  lips  were  fresh  as  dew. 
The  "lady  fly,"  I  seized  it  there. 

But  the  kiss — away  it  flew  ! 


214  SONG  OF  THE  COSSACK. 


SONG    OF    THE    COSSACK. 

[BEB  A  N  OBB.  ] 


COME,  friend  of  mine,  the  Cossack's  noble  steed, 
Bound  at  the  northern  trumpet's  signal  blast  ; 
Swift  to  the  pkinder,  fierce  the  attiick  to  lead. 
Lend  wings  to  Death  as  thou  and  I  go  past ! 
Thy  trappings  with  no  golden  riches  glow, 
But  victory  soon  thy  giierdon  shall  bestow  ; 
Neigh,  proudly  neigh,  O  faithful  st^jtd  of  mine  ! 
Crush  kings  and  peoples  'neath  that  hoof  of  thine  ! 

n. 

Departing  peace  hath  flung  to  me  thy  rein, 
Old  Europe's  ramjiarts  crumble  in  the  dust : 

Come,  let  mine  hands  outstretched  the  treasure  gain  ; 
Where  Art  hath  raised  her  shrine,  there  let  us  rest. 

Beturn  to  quaff  the  Seine's  tempestuous  wave, 

"Where  thou  didst  twice  thy  limbs  ensanguined  lavo. 

Neigh,  proudly  neigh,  O  faithful  steed  of  mine  ! 

Crush  kings  and  peoples  'neath  that  hoof  of  thine ! 

m. 

Prince,  priest  and  noble,  as  in  fortress  pent, 

By  suffering  subjects,  loudly  to  us  say  : 
"  Come,  be  our  masters,  we  shall  be  content 
To  play  the  serf,  bo  tyrants,  too,  we  stay  !" 
I  seize  my  lance,  and  all  before  it  toss. 
To  humble  soon  the  sceptre  and  the  cross. 
Neigh,  proudly  ncagh,  O  faithful  steed  of  mine  I 
Crush  kings  and  peoples  'neath  that  hoof  of  thine  I 


MY  mission:  213 


IV. 


I  see  the  phantom  of  a  giant  vast, 

His  eager  eyes  fixed  ou  our  bivouac, 
As  with  his  spear  he  points  unto  the  west : 

"  My  reign,"  he  shouteth,  "is  again  come  back  !" 
It  is  the  spirit  of  the  Huu's  great  Lord, 
The  son  of  Attila  obeys  his  "word. 
Neigh,  proudly  neigh,  O  faithful  steed  of  mine  ! 
Crush  kings  and  peoples  'neath  that  hoof  of  thino  ! 

V. 

All,  all  the  pomp  -which  Europe  boasts  so  loud, 
The  knowledge  which  is  bootless  to  defend. 

Shall  soon  be  swallowed  in  the  whirling  cloud 
Of  dust  which  shall  upon  our  steps  attend. 

Efface,  efface  in  this,  thy  coming  reign, 

Old  customs,  manners,  laws — the  throne  and  fane. 

Neigh,  proudly  neigh,  O  faithful  steed  of  mine  ! 

Crush  kings  and  peoples  'neath  that  hoof  of  thine . 


MY     ]\I  I  S  S  I  O  N . 

[BEBAMOES.] 


UPON  this  earthly  planet  flung. 
Ungainly,  weak  and  poor. 
Down-trod  the  rushing  crowd  among, 

Because  I'm  but  obscure. 
Sometimes  a  touching  plaint 

From  my  full  heart  will  spring  : 
Then  God,  in  pity,  says  to  me, 
"  Sing  !  little  creature,  sing !" 


216  MI"  mission: 


II. 


The  splendid  chariot  rolling  by 

Will  splash  mo  as  I  pass  ; 
Of  insolence  enough  know  I, 

From  rich  and  great,  alas  ! 
Ah  !  from  their  chilling  pride, 

For  me  there  is  no  guard. 
Then  God,  in  pitj',  says  to  me, 

"  Sing,  sing  !  poor  little  bard !" 


III. 

Too  fearfnl,  truly,  to  contend 

With  lif(;'s  uncertain  game, 
Beneath  the  petty  yoke  I  bend 

Of  this  poor  place  ^vith  shame. 
Yes  !  liberty  I  imze. 

But  so  keen's  my  appetite  ! 
Then  God,  in  pity,  says  to  me  : 

"Sing,  sing  !   poor  little  sprite  !" 


TV. 


Love,  in  my  days  of  luckless  plight, 

To  cheer  me  oft  would  try  ; 
But  now,  Avith  youth  in  rapid  flight, 

I  sec  him  hastening  by. 
In  vain  my  pulses  bound, 

Near  beauty  as  I  cling — 
The  good  God  kindly  says  to  me, 

"Sing,  little  minstrel,  sing  !" 


MY  RErUBLIO.  217 


To  sing,  then,  or  I'm  much  astray, 

My  lol  is  here  helow. 
All  whom  I  thus  aiuuse,  will  they 

Not  love  me  ?    Yes,  I  know ! 
When  social  joys  surround, 

And  wino  gives  pleasure  wing, 
The  good  God  kindly  says  to  me, 

"Sing,  little  minstrel,  sincr!" 


-"o 


smgi 


]MY     REPUBLIC. 

[DKBAKaBB.] 


REPUBLICS  quite  my  fancy  take, 
Since  I  so  many  kiugs  have  kno-\\Ti. 
One  for  myself  I'll  surely  make, 

And  frame  good  laws  for  it  alone  ; 
No  traffic  there  save  in  the  bowl. 
No  justice  but  in  gay  decree  ; 
lly  table  its  dominion  sole, 
Its  simple  motto — Liberty  ! 

n. 

Friends,  let  us  all  our  glasses  fill — 

The  Senate  takes  its  seat  to-day  ; 
First,  by  a  stringent  act,  we  will 

That  Ennui  be  proscribed  for  aye — 
Proscribed  !  ah,  what !   our  realm  withiu 

This  word  unknown  should  ever  be — 
Ennui  no  place  with  us  can  win, 

For  pleasure  follows  libei-ty  ! 
lO 


218  MT  REPUBLIC. 


irr. 


All  luxury's  abuses  here, 

By  which  Joy  suffers,  sho  decries  ; 
No  barriers  has  thought  to  fear, 

By  grace  of  Bacchus — nor  disguise. 
Let  every  one  his  creed  profess 

According  as  his  taste  may  bo  ; 
In  sooth,  he  e'en  may  go  to  Mass — 

Such  is  the  will  of  liberty  ! 


IV. 

Nobility's  a  great  abuse  ; 

Then  of  our  sires  wo  shall  not  boast. 
A  title  e'en  wo  must  refuse 

To  him  who  laughs  and  drinks  the  most. 
And  if  aspiring  to  the  crown, 

A  traitor  here  amongst  us  bo, 
This  CaBsar  in  the  bowl  we'll  drown, 

And  thus  preserve  omi  liberty  ! 


Come,  then,  to  our  Republic  drink — 

May  it  fulfil  its  destiny  ! 
But  peaceful  people  you,  I  think, 

An  enemy  already  see  ; 
It  is  Lisftte,  by  whom  again 

In  chains  voluptuous  bound  are  we. 
Ah,  she  is  fair — and  sho  will  reign — 

'Tis  over  now  for  liberty  ! 


so  MAT  IT  BEL  219 


SO     MAY     IT     BE. 

[BERANOER.] 


DEAR  fi-ioncls,  prophetic  gifts  aro  mine, 
The  promised  future  I  divine, 
By  this,  my  subtle  art's  design — 
So  may  it  be  ! 

II. 

The  bard  no  parasite  you'll  see, 
The  great  from  flattery  shall  flee, 
The  courtier  serve  from  baseness  fi'ee, 
So  may  it  be  ! 

in. 

No  iisnrers,  no  gamblers  seen, 
No  little  banker  lords,  I  ween, 
Officials  none  of  saucy  mien. 

So  may  it  be  ! 

IV. 

Friendship,  of  life  the  chiefest  gain, 
A  tie  shall  bo  not  false  or  vain. 
Of  which  misfortune  breaks  the  chain, 
So  may  it  bo  ! 

V. 

The  simple  maid  at  fifteen  known. 
In  three  years'  time  with  lovers  thrown, 
Shall  prattle  gaily — that  alone, 
So  may  it  be  ! 


220  SO  MAY  IT  BE. 


VI. 


Then  women  vain  gewgaws  will  shun, 
And  husbands,  too,  uo  danger  run, 
E'en  for  a  week  should  they  be  gone — 
So  may  it  be  ! 


VII. 


Our  writers  will  in  each  essay 
More  genius— less  of  wit — display, 
All  puerile  jargon  cast  away — 

So  may  it  be  ! 


VIII. 


The  author  shall  have  nobler  aim. 
The  actor  less  of  foppish  fame, 
The  critic  bear  a  civil  name — 

So  may  it  bo  ! 


IX. 


We  may  at  failings  of  the  great 
And  of  their  i)audcrs  laugh  and  jn-atn, 
Without  a  message  from  the  State — 
So  may  it  be  ! 


Now,  taste  in  France  her  reign  resumes. 
Justice  the  land  throughout  illumes. 
And  exiled  Truth,  returned,  bluoms — 
So  may  it  bo  ! 

XI. 

Then  God,  who  wisely  rules,  let's  bless  ; 
My  friends,  these  things  shall  be,  I  guess, 
About  the  year  3,000— yes  ! 

So  may  it  be  ! 


THE  BLIND  GIRL.  221 

THE    BLIND     GIRL. 

[FEOM  THE  ITALIAN.] 
I. 

OH,  if  an  .angel,  winging 
His  way  to  thine  awful  throne, 
Dear  Lord,  nnto  thcc  is  Lriuging 
The  blind  girl's  i^laintive  moan, 
Pity,  O  Lord  !  then,  pity  mc; 
Thou  knowest  the  depth  of  my  misery. 

II. 

If  thou'st  to  mo  forbidden 

Tho  warmth  and  the  light  of  love, 
Oh,  why  should  those  throbbings  hidden 
My  heart's  depths  wildly  move  ? 
Pity,  O  Lord  !   then,  pity  me  ; 
Thou  knowest  the  depth  of  my  misery . 

III. 
"When  the  stars,  in  countless  number. 

Are  glowing  within  the  skies, 
There's  for  me  but  a  curtain  sombre 
In  which  all  their  splendor  dies. 
Pity,  O  Lord  !   then,  pity  me  ;« 
Thou  knowest  the  depth  of  my  misery. 

IV. 

If  only  in  tears  and  mourning 
My  life  must  moidder  away, 
Then  give  mc,  O  Lord,  the  warning 
Which  calls  me  to  Thee,  I  jjray. 
Pity,  O  Lord  !   then,  pity  me  ; 
Thou  knowest  tho  depth  of  my  misery  ! 


322  nOME  SONG. 


HOME     SONG. 

[CHATEADBBIAND.] 

HOW  oft  do  those  drcamings  como 
Of  thee,  my  native  home  ! — 
Laud  of  my  love  evermore. 
Ah,  how  the  moments  flew, 
France,  'neath  thy  skies  of  blue  ! 
Sister,  what  brightness  they  wore  ! 

II. 

Dost  thou  remember,  dear, 
Seated  the  hearth  auear, 

IIow  our  fond  mother  would  presa 
Each  to  her  bosom  there, 
And  o'er  our  golden  hair 

Uend  with  a  loving  caress  ? 

III. 

Sister,  rememberest  thou, 
When  round  the  old  chateau 

Sjjarkled  the  river  in  jjlay  ? 
And  the  dark  Moorish  tower, 
Which,  at  the  dawning  hour, 

Hang  out  its  chimes  to  the  day  ? 

IV. 

Dost  thou  remember,  too, 
Where  the  light  swallow  flew, 

Skimming  the  lake's  tranqiiil  breast, 
While  the  wind  murmured  low, 
Hulfliug  the  Yccdfi  below. 

As  the  red  sun  sank  to  rest  ? 

V. 

O  my  Helena,  who 

E'er  will  restore  mo  you  ? — 

You,  the  green  hills,  the  oak  tree  ? 
Still  do  those  mem'ries  vain 
Thrill  me  with  joy  and  ^lain, 

Clinging,  my  country,  to  thco  ! 


MK . 


SONGS. 


mF 


Songs 


CHANT. 

Air—"  Erin,  The  Teajb  and  the  San^." 
[WaiTXEN  FOB  The  O'Connell  Centenaby.] 


PKOUDLY  he  comes  through  the  silence  and  gloom, 
Euling  us  yet  from  the  depths  of  the  tomb! 
Potent  that  magic  name, 
In  life  or  death  the  same, 
Men's  souls  with  heavenly  flame  ! 
Still  to  illume  ! 

EKFRAIN. 

KoULng  from  shore  to  shore, 
From  Erin's  inmost  core, 
Echoed  by  thousands  more. 
Hear  ye  that  name ! 

n. 

Monarch  annointed,  -where  had  he  his  throne  ? 
Never  the  diadem  on  his  brow  shone — 

Throned  in  our  hearts  vras  he, 

Crowned  with  our  homage  free, 

Loved  with  the  loyalty. 
Ever  his  o^-n  ! 


EEFKAUT. 

Boiling  from  shore  to  shore,  etc. 


10" 


226  CHANT. 


HI. 

Slaves  lying  low  in  the  pallor  of  death, 
Did  ye  not  waken  to  life  in  his  breath  ? 
Led  by  his  prophet  might 
Ilo«e  ye  to  manhood's  height. 
Flashing  the  sword  of  right, 
Forth  from  its  sheath ! 

EEFRAIN. 

Eolling  from  shore  to  shore,  etc. 


TV. 

Moulded  was  he  from  the  soil's  glowing  breast, 
With  red  deer  and  eagle,  and  mountain's  proud  crest ! 

And  ev'ry  word  and  thought. 

Aye  with  enchantment  fraught, 

Were  from  that  mother  caught— 
Eire  the  blest ! 

KKFRAIN. 

Eolling  from  shore  to  shore,  etc. 


From  far  and  wide,  O  ye  sons  of  the  Gael, 
Pajans  are  mingUng  with  sorrow's  low  wail- 
Victor  and  martyr  tnie. 
Fondly  wo  ehng  to  you, 
Feci  all  your  presence,  too. 
Swelling  the  gale  ! 

EEFBAIN. 

Eolling  from  shore  to  shore,  etc. 


MARCHING  SONO.  227 

VI. 

Yes  !  thou  are  near  us  as  waters  that  glide 
Par  from  the  sunlight  in  darkness  to  hide. 

Though  from  our  vision  gone, 

Deeply  they  murmur  on, 

Ev'n  as  a  spirit  tone, 

Seeming  to  guide  ! 

EEFEAXN. 

Rolling  from  shore  to  shore,  etc. 

VII. 

Thou,  looming  grander  from  out  the  dead  years  ! 
Clothed  in  the  purple  of  rulers  and  seers — 

Sliil  shall  thy  fame  remain, 

Bearing  nor  shade  nor  stuin. 

Sweet  be  thy  requiem  strain, 
Sung  through  our  tears  ! 

REFRAIN. 

KoUing  from  shore  to  shore,  etc. 


MARCHING     SONG. 

Air—"  The  Young  Mat  Mook." 

I. 

WITH  pikes  so  brightly  glancing,  O  ! 
With  flags  so  lightly  dancing,  O  ! 

As  "Felons"  still, 

With  right  good  will. 
To  the  struggle  we're  gaily  advancing,  O  ! 
Yes,  a  joyful  hour  it  is,  my  boys. 
So  full  of  bright  hope  and  power,  my  boys — 

In  the  only  true  way, 

With  hearty  hurrah. 
To  press  with  the  strength  of  a  tower,  my  boys ! 


228  MARC  my  G  SONG. 

II. 

No  brawlers  dare  to  fool  us  uow, 
With  nod  and  beck  to  mle  us  now  ; 

Seme  thousands  ten 

Of  earnest  men, 
We  -want  little  speeching  to  school  us  now. 
And  away  with  "foreign  aid,"  my  boys, 
We  know  'tis  only  a  shade,  my  boys, 

The  flourishing  tree 

Of  fair  Liberty 
Must  spring  from  the  soil,  or  'twill  fade,  my  boys  » 

III. 

Then,  come  with  manly  bearing,  O  ! 
For  red-coats  Uttle  caring,  O  ! 

Their  ranks  of  pride 

Will  not  long  abide, 
If  we  know  how  to  face  them  with  daring,  O  ! 
Come  meet  them,  friends  and  neighbors  all ; 
On  through  their  cannons  and  sabres  all, 

Girded  by  Eight 

Are  we  for  the  fight. 
And  we'll  soon  have  an  end  of  oui-  labors  all ! 

IV. 

The  harvest  moon,  so  glorious,  men. 
Will  see  our  ranks  victorious,  men  ; 

The  coats  of  frieze 

Will  gain  the  prize. 
And  then  for  our  mirth  uproarious,  men  I 
With  pikes  so  brightly  glancing,  O  ! 
With  flags  BO  lightly  dancing,  O  ! 

Surely  under  the  sun 

There  ne'er  was  such  fun. 
As  thus  to  the  struggle  advancing,  O  ! 


SONO  OF   TUB  IRISH  TENANT.  229 


SONG    OF    THE     IRISH     TENANT. 

>ltr— "Shan  Van  Vocht." 

X. 

MY  sons  are  blood  and  bone, 
Says  the  Slian  Van  Vocld ; 
Yet  they  seemed  as  cold  as  stone, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 
From  Man,  and  not  from  God, 
They  held  their  native  sod, 
And  kissed  the  tyrants'  rod, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  VocM. 

II. 

But  we're  all  in  earnest  now, 

Says  the  *S/ia?i  Van  Vocht; 
And  we'll  keep  the  written  vow, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 
Can  they  check  the  ocean's  way. 
The  storm  and  lightning's  play, 
Or  the  voice  that  speaks  to-day. 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht? 

in. 

To  bring  them  silks  and  gold. 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht, 

Your  lives  were  crushed  and  sold. 
Says  the  <S/ia)i  Van  Vocht. 

They  said  that  you  were  bora 

To  reap  the  bri'r  and  thorn, 

"While  they  robbed  the  golden  corn. 
Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 


230  SONG  OF   TTIE  IRISU  TENANT. 


IT. 


But  we  know — may  God  be  praised  !- 
Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht, 

"When  once  a  truth  is  raised, 

Says  the  ISluin  Van  Vocht, 

By  voice,  or  sword,  or  pen, 

By  angels,  or  by  men, 

'Tis  never  laid  again. 

Says  tbo  iSluin  Van  Vocht. 


The  struggle  may  be  long. 

Says  the  Slian  Van  Vocht ; 
But  Eight  will  make  you  strong. 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 
In  coolness  lies  the  spell. 
Amid  your  passions'  swell. 
To  lead  you  onward  still. 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 


YX. 


Let  each  burning  throb  you  feel, 
Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht, 

Be  tempered  as  your  steel. 

Says  the  Sh/m  Van  Vocht. 

Poured  out  without  an  aim, 

Ah  !   what  is  passion's  flume  ? 

The  end  is  only  shame, 

Says  the  <S/ian  Van  Vocht. 


mS  NAME.  231 


Til. 


To  aid  our  glorious  plan, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht, 
We  call  each  honest  man, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 
From  Ulad,  *  stern  and  true, 
To  Muiuain'st  mountains  blue, 
From  Laigcan  and  Conact,^  too, 

Says  the  S}ian  Van  Vocht. 


HIS    NAME. 

Air—"1  AM  ABiiBFP,  AND  Dos't  "Waken  Mb." 

I. 

ARE  the  clustering  stars  that  now  gem  the  blue  wave 
Not  glorious  to  see  in  their  far  home  above  ? 
As  bright  is  the  name  that's  now  linked  ^\•ith  the  grave. 
And  once  was  the  stay  of  oiu*  hope  antl  our  love. 
Undying  is  he  who,  'mid  doubt  and  decay. 
To  Hope's  fairy  land  pointed  out  the  true  way  ; 

H. 

Are  the  old  statelymountains  not  lofty  and  grand. 

Where  Time  fails  to  leave  e'en  a  mark  of  his  track  ? 

As  proudly  enduring  thy  fame  in  the  land, 

When  through  the  long  ^^s(:a  of  years  we  look  back, 

The  highest,  the  holiest  things  that  we  see 

ShaU  speak,  Thomas  Davis,  to  our  hearts,  of  thee  ! 

*  Ulster .      t  Leinster .      +  Counaught . 


232  THE   TRUE  PATH. 


in. 


Thou  wcrt  like  the  tree  with  the  fruit  and  the  flower, 
Thine  the  ripeness  of  age  and  the  ardor  of  youth  ; 
Oh,  rarely  on  earth  may  be  seen  the  fair  dower. 
Deep  passion  led  onward  by  wisdom  and  truth, 
And  all  the  rich  store  as  an  offering  laid 
On  the  altar  of  freedom,  its  struggle  to  aid. 

IV. 

"Were  all  cold  around  thee,  thou  still  wouldst  be  true  ; 
Not  the  world  could  o'ershadow  that  heart  pure  and  deep ; 
As  free  and  unfettered  the  sjiring  gushes  blue. 
While,  ice-bound,  the  waters  surrounding  it  sleep. 
Some  natures  there  are  of  pure  gold,  like  to  thine. 
That  for  ever  unstained  and  unsullied  will  shine  ! 


THE     TRUE     PATH 

.4ir— "  AvENQiNO  AND  Bkight." 


IF  in  steel  there  is  might,  if  in  man  there  is  honor, 
Is  vengeance  a  duty— endurance  a  shame  ? 
Then  forth  to  the  light  you  •will  fling  the  green  banner, 
And  strike  the  good  blow  which  brings  triumph  and  fume. 

II. 

Red  signs  in  the  heavens  flit  wildly  above  j'ou — 
Now,  sous  of  the  Gael,  speed  bold  on  your  way  ! 
This  struggle,  before  the  wide  world,  must  prove  ye. 
Or  Lcroea  or  helots  for  ever  to  stay. 


SONG  OF  THE  DAT.  233 

in. 
Dark  fetters  have  hung  on  the  limbs  of  your  fathers, 
But  si  ill  in  their  grasp  the  sure  weapon  they  bore  ; 
And  proud  rose  their  wrath  as  the  tempest-cloud  gathers, 
And  the  hand  of  the  tjTant  oppressed  them  no  more. 

IV. 

Your  swords  are  as  keen  as  the  bravest  e'er  flourished, 
Your  chains  arc  as  heavy — what  more  do  yoi\  need  ? 
No  fear  of  a  cause  by  such  memories  nourished, 
If  true  bo  the  hearts  that  will  on  to  the  deed. 


SONG     OF     THE     DAY 

I. 

I  GIVE  my  heart  to  you,  Eir^, 
I  give  my  heart  to  j'ou, 
And  well  I  know,  whate'cr  betide, 

That  I  shall  never  rue. 
'Twere  sweet  to  die  for  you,  Eire, 

'Twerc  sweet  to  die  for  you  : 
And  'tis  what  iu  my  heart  I  mean, 
If  livlnij  will  not  do 

n. 

I  know  the  time  is  coming 

To  show  my  truth  and  love, 
And  I  am  truly  striving,  dear, 

My  loyalty  to  prove. 
I  think  of  nothing  else,  dear, 

The  night  and  morning  through. 
But  how  my  life  and  strength  may  bo 

Devoted  unto  you  ! 


234  MT  VOICE  OF  SOJSTG. 

m. 

There's  nothing  e'er  could  sway  me 

Yoiu"  banner  to  clisowai ; 
No  joy  could  win  mc  from  you  now, 

And  fear  ! — I  would  have  none. 
'Twould  raise  mo  to  the  lieavcns  above 

To  sec  your  freedom's  day  ; 
But  welcome  still  be  God's  good  wiU, 

Though  I  should  bo  away  1 


IMY     VOICE     OF     SONG. 

I. 

MY  voice  of  song  is  given  to  thee,    > 
"Land  of  the  murmuring  streams  !"  * 
Thou  art  the  worshipped  of  my  heart, 

The  light  that  gilds  my  dreams. 
Thy  name — the  flower  upon  my  path, 

The  star  A\ithin  my  sky; 

And  as  for  thee  I  gladly  live, 

So  I  for  thee  would  die  ! 

II. 

If  thou  -wert  high  in  power  and  fame, 

I  might  not  love  you  so  ; 
But  'tis  not  on  the  happiest 

I  would  my  love  bestow. 
One  bird  loves  best  to  sing  at  night. 

While  others  wait  the  day, 
And  in  this  cheerless  night  of  thine, 

I  wake  for  thee  my  lay  ! 

*  Iri-lriii'l  -was  called  by  her  ancient  bards  "  Ireland  of  the  munnurlng 
BtreaiuH." 


I  AM  A  POOR  STRANGER.  235 

ni. 
And  if  I  prize  the  lyro  and  -wreath, 

'Tis  for  thy  sake  alone  ; 
For  every  chord  and  every  leaf 

Belong  to  thee,  my  own. 
My  voice  of  song  is  given  to  thee, 

"Land  of  the  murmuring  streams  !" 
Thou  art  the  worshipp'd  of  my  heart, 

The  light  that-gilds  my  dreams  ! 


I     AM     A     POOR     STRANGER. 

Air—"  I  AM  A  PooB  Stbanqeb." 

I. 

TnOUGH  bright  be  the  sunlight  and  clear  the  blue  sky, 
There's  a  pang  at  my  heart  and  a  tear  in  mine  eye  ; 
'Twixt  mo  and  Old  Ireland  the  wild  billows  roam, 
I  am  a  poor  stranger  that's  far  from  my  homo  I 

II. 
The  shadows  are  flying  above  the  wild  hills. 
And  sparkle  and  murmur  the  clear  summer  rills. 
Whore  once,  like  the  red  deer,  so  swiftly  I  clomb, 
But  I'm  now  a  poor  stranger  that's  far  from  my  home  ! 

HI. 
Ah  !   the  roots  of  my  heart  from  the  soil  have  been  torn, 
'Tis  long  since  a  green  bud  of  Hope  they  have  borne  ; 
AU  weary  I  wander  'neath  Heaven's  wide  dome, 
For  I  am  a  poor  stranger  that's  far  from  my  home  ! 

IV. 

As  soft  as  the  blossoms  fall  down  from  the  tree. 
Come  stealing  those  mem'ries  of  Erin  o'er  mo  ; 
And  sweet  as  the  west  wind,  wherever  I  roam, 
To  the  j)oor,  lonely  stranger  that's  fax-  from  his  home  ! 


236  MT  01V N. 


MY     OWN. 

[FROM  THE-nUSH.] 


BY  the  wild  beating  of  my  heart, 
Having  no  placo  for  all  its  joy  ; 
By  those  soft  tears  that  wet  my  cheek, 

Like  dews  from  Summer  sky. 
I?y  this  strange  rush  through  every  vein, 

This  choked  and  trembling  tone, 
Surcharged  with  bliss  it  cannot  tell, 
I  feel  thou  art  my  own. 

II. 

And  yet  it  cannot  still  be  true, 

I've  dreamed  a  thousand  golden  dreams, 
But  this  is  brighter,  mlder  far 

Than  even  the  wild  jst  scenes. 
I've  dreamed  of  wonders,  spirit  climes, 

Of  glory  and  of  blisses  won. 
But  ne'er  before  did  vision  come 

To  say  thou  wort  my  own. 

in. 

My  own,  my  own  !   thus  gazing  on, 

My  life-breath  seems  to  eblj  away  ; 
And  o'er  and  o'er,  and  still  again 

The  same  dear  words  I  say  : 
I  know,  I  know  it  must  be  true. 

And  here,  vdih.  Heaven  and  thee  alone, 
I  hold  thf.o  next  my  heart  of  hearts, 

For  thou  art  all  my  own  ! 


rnOU  AND  I.  237 


THOU     AND     I. 

^ir — "The   Livb-lono   Nioht." 


THOU  art  the  light,  and  I  the  shade  ; 
If  thou  fiidest,  I,  too,  fade  ; 
If  thy  voice  be  hetird  no  more, 
Mine,  the  echo,  then  is  o'er — 
Mine  is  mute  for  evermore. 


II. 


Thou  art  the  star  that  beams  on  high, 
In  the  wave  beneath  am  I  ; 
If  the  star  away  should  flee, 
Who  would  then  the  shadow  sec  ? 
Where  would  I,  thy  shadow,  be  ? 


nr. 

Thou  art  the  breath  in  which  I  breathe. 
In  thy  heart  mine  own  I  sheath  ; 
If  thou  livest,  I  live  on, 
If  thou  goest,  I  am  gone — 
I,  too,  vanish,  cold  and  wan  ! 


238  O  MT  BIRD. 


O     MY     BIRD!' 

^ir— "  The  CoULiN." 


OMY  bird  of  the  wMto  breast  and  soft  swelling  form, 
Thou  canst  not  be  near  mc  amid  the  wild  storm  ; 
Thy  soft  notes  of  music  would  falter  and  die 
'Neath  the  darkness  and  cold  of  the  sad  winter  sky. 


n. 

The  bright,  flutt'ring  plumes  thou  art  used  to  unfold, 
'Mid  fair,  blooming  flowers  and  warm  skies  of  gold, 
Would  droop  by  the  drenching  rain,  shattered  and  torn, 
Though  my  fond,  circling  arms  should  not  leave  thee  forlorn. 


in. 

Tlie  place  of  our  rest,  was  it  not  calm  and  fair  ? 
And  now,  by  the  spoiler's  dark  hand,  'tis  laid  bare  ; 
No  more  shall  we  rove  through  the  hazel-shades  green. 
Where  the  strawberry  buds  in  their  beauty  are  seen. 


IV. 

Far  from  mo  thou  must  wander,  until  the  mild  Spring 
Shall  sweet-smelling  blossoms  and  gentle  airs  bring. 
Thou  canst  not  be  near  me,  oh,  loved  as  thou  art, 
Though  thy  nest  shall  bo  warm  in  the  depths  of  my  heart ! 


UBHAL  MA  SriL.  239 


UBHAL     MA     SUIL.* 

I. 

UBHAL  MA  SUIL,  I  dreamed  of  you  ! 
I  saw  you  there  wath  thrilling  wonder — • 
A  lovely  cloud  that  bright  above 

Shono  faintly  in  the  river  under. 
A  little  mist,  a  shadowj'  veil, 

Just  kept  mj^  joy  from  wildest  madness  ; 
I  knew,  I  knew  it  was  not  true — 
Asthore  machree,  there  still  was  sadness  ! 

n. 

TThhal  ma  suil,  yet  come  to  me, 

Oh  !   once  again  when  I  am  sleeping. 
With  gentle  smiles  to  steal  away 

The  traces  of  my  daily  weeping. 
I  know  no  waking  e'er  can  bring 

That  hour  for  which  my  heart  is  beating  ; 
Then,  come  to  me,  astliorc  machree, 

With  that  lone,  silent,  midnight  greeting  ! 


THE      WEST      WIND. 

I. 

On,  the  western  wind,  the  soft  west  wind  ! 
'Tis  tilled  with  golden  showers 
Of  song,  and  mirth,  and  gentle  tears, 

And  scents  of  Summer  flowers. 
*Tis  thrilling  as  a  lover's  tone. 

Thus  whispering  through  the  leaves — 
Oh,  the  western  wind,  the  soft  west  ^viud, 
How  low  it  laughs  and  grieves  ! 

*  "  Apple  of  my  eye."    Pronounced,  Ool-ma-hool, 


240  THE   WEST  WIND. 


II. 


It  tells  such  strange,  wild  mystic  tales 

Of  all  its  wanderings  far, 
In  music  to  the  listening  moon, 

And  every  little  star  ; 
And  now  it  breathes  its  loving  breath 

In  Idsses  on  them  all. 
Oh,  the  western  wind,  the  soft  west  wind, 

How  sweet  its  murmurs  fall ! 


III. 


I  love  its  gentle  waywardness — 

'Tis  like  a  merry  child, 
So  hap])y  and  so  elfin-liko, 

So  sportive  and  so  wild. 
It  has  the  magic  melody 

We  hear  on  fairy  hills — 
Oh,  the  western  wind,  the  soft  west  wind, 

Each  Irish  heart  it  thrills  ! 


IV. 


Oh,  the  western  wind,  the  soft  west  wind, 

The  breath  of  our  dear  land, 
How  softly,  by  its  angel  wing, 

The  wanderer's  brow  is  fann'd. 
It  brings  him  back  the  memories 

Of  those  he  left  behind. 
And  he  murmurs  low  a  blessing  on 

The  darlin;'  western  wind. 


A 


ALL    ALONE.  341 


ALL      A  L  ONE. 


LL  alone,  we  dwelt  alone,  in  a  far-off,  mystical  land  of  our 

,    own  ; 
Lit  by  the  purple  and  gold  of  dreams, 
Glad  with  the  mui-mui-s  of  musical  streams, 
Evermore  chanting  in  silvery  tone — 

All  alone — alone  ! 


ri. 

All  alone,  we  dwelt  alone,  tropical  flowers  around  us  blown. 
Breathing  a  heavy  and  strange  perfume, 
Fainting  with  weight  of  their  gorgeous  bloom, 
As  we,  with  the  love  in  our  eyes  that  shone. 
All  alone — alone  ! 


III. 

All  alone,  we  dwelt  alone,  tranced,  and  bound  by  a  magic  zone. 
Pouring  out  tears  from  each  heart's  recess. 
Wrung  from  the  trembling  and  wild  excess 
Of  passion,  that  panted  vdfh  rapturous  moan. 
All  alone  ! — alone. 


IV 

All  alone,  we  dwell  alone,  life  is  chill  as  a  cold  grey  stone. 
Shadows  are  dimming  the  mournful  sky. 
Flowers  of  hope  to  the  wild  winds  fly. 
And  music  breathes  in  a  minor  tone. 

All  alone — alone  ! 
I  T 


H2  THE  SPIRITS   FAREWELL. 

V. 

All  alone,  we  dwell  alone,  glittering  wrecks  on  the  ground  are 
strown — 
Open  wide  throngh  the  feai-fnl  gloom, 
Seen  anent  are  the  gates  of  doom  ; 
Sun,  or  moon,  or  star  is  none- 
All  alone — alone  ! 

VI. 

All  alone — for  ever  lone — angels  weep  round  the  golden  throne. 
Up  from  the  fiery  depths  below 
A  wild  laugh  rings  for  the  mortal  wot — 
Lo8t  Earth — lost  Heaven — like  jjhantoms  flown — 
All  alone — alone  ! 


I'HF.     SPIRIT'S     FAREWELL. 

Air—"  Fi,owERB  OK  Hope." 


"The  spirit,  fixing  hfir  eycn  upon  him  with  a  mournful  look,  faded  away 
by  degrees."  —German  Legend. 


I. 


PARTED  !   purtid  !     Earth  or  sky 
Hath  no  hope  for  thee  or  me  ; 
Love  and  Grief  still  vainly  try. 
Strong  although  they  be. 


II. 


Faint,  low  voices  near  me  swell. 
Shadowy  foims  around  me  play  ; 

Sadly  rings  the  boding  knell, 
Thou  must  far  away  ! 


THK   SPIRITS  FARBWBU^  2<S 


III. 

Hope  not,  Htrive  not — all  is  o'er  ; 

Hours  that  flowed  with  breezy  song, 
Sweet,  wild  throbs  my  life  that  bore 

Silv'ry  waved  along. 


IV. 

Hulls  of  gladness,  star-inwove, 
Dream-like  glories  wait  for  mo  ; 

But  the  shade  of  my  lost  love 
Shall  above  them  be. 


Sooner,  sooner,  round  my  brow 
Earth's  most  fragile  flow'rs  I'd  see, 

Than  all  the  gems  of  magic  glow. 
Now  mv  crown  to  be. 


VI. 

In  those  bowers  of  fadeless  glow, 
'Mid  that  music's  witching  spell, 

I  shall  hear  the  echoes  low 
Of  that  past  too  well. 


VII. 

Parted  !  parted  !  earth  or  sky, 
Never  brings  that  hour  again. 

Parted  !  parted  !  thou  and  I — 
Love  and  grief  are  vain  ! 


244  THE  MOANING  HARP. 


THE      MOANING      HARP. 


SAD  as  the  night  wind's  sighing 
Still  came  that  strain, 
Moaning  and  moaning  ever 

With  sonuds  of  paiu  ; 
And  she,  its  skilful  mistress. 

Now  strove  in  vain — 
The  chords  that  once  gave  mnsic 
Still  wailed  in  pain. 

II. 

Ah  !  htish  thee,  helpless  maiden  ; 

List,  list  that  tone  ! 
For  thee  earth's  light  and  gladness 

For  aye  are  gone. 
For,  oh,  the  harp  is  moaning 

Beneath  thy  hand, 
With  the  voice  of  one  departed, 

In  stranger-land  ! 


THE  WIND  AND  THE  MOON. 

I. 

THE  night-wind  sang  to  the  queenly  moon— 
"  I  love  thee  !   I  love  thee  !' 
Moaning  words  to  a  mystical  tune. 
Wild  was  that  strain  in  its  passionate  swell, 
Faintly  and  slowly  to  sobs  it  fell, 

"  I  love  thee  !   I  love  thee  !" 


THE  BIRD  JN  SHE  STORM.  246 

11. 

The  bright  moon  heard,  but  the  words  that  came, 

Adoring  !   adoring ! 
Woke  in  her  breast  no  answering  flame. 
Proudly  she  looks  from  her  star-gemmed  throne, 
Bound  by  the  gold  of  her  maiden  zone. 

Still  soaring,  soaring. 

in. 

Deep  through  the  midnight  the  wild  wind  sighs, 
"I  love  thee!   Hove  thee!" 

But  the  calm  moon  on  her  bright  way  flies, 

Far  from  that  pleading  and  passionate  tone, 

Murmuring  ever,  with  many  a  moan, 

"  I  love  thee  !   I  love  thee  !" 


THE     BIRD     IN     THE     STORM. 

I. 

THE  rain  was  falUng,  the  winds  were  calling. 
The  clouds  swept  over  the  sky, 
When,  'mid  the  alarm  of  darkness  and  storm, 
A  shower  of  song  gushed  by  : 
Says  the  wee  Uttle  bird,   "  'T  is  I !" 

II. 

'•  Ah  !   is  it  not  dieary,  and  are  you  not  weary. 
Poor  wee  little  bird?"  I  said  ; 

"  How  lonely  and  queer  you  must  feel  out  here, 
Just  under  the  tempest  diead  ? — 
Ah,  birdie,  you'll  soon  be  cJ^ad!" 


246  STAR   SONO. 

III. 

"  While  the  storm  is  ringing,  is  my  time  for  sioging," 
Says  the  wee  little  bird  to  me  ; 

"  Though  the  clouds  be  dim,  yet  I  warble  my  hymn, 
And  I  die  not,  though  cold  it  be, 
For  my  name  it  is  Hope,"  says  she. 

IV. 

So  the  song  it  is  gushing,  and  seems  as  if  hushing 

The  atmosphere,  tempest-stirred  ; 
Softly  and  clear  it  falls  on  the  ear. 

Through  clouds  and  through  darkness  heard — 

The  song  of  the  sweet  wee  bird  ! 


S  1  A  R      SONG 


I. 

LAST  year,  when  the  stars  were  burning, 
I  looked  in  their  eyes  of  love, 
Up  with  a  passionate  yearning 
To  their  bright  home  above  ; 
For,  oh,  in  their  golden  glories. 
Wondrous  and  dazzling  there, 
I  read  but  the  thousand  stories 
In  my  own  heart  that  were. 

n. 

This  year  the  same  stars  are  burning, 

But  I  look  from  their  light  away, 
Down  where  to.  shailows  turning. 

Cold  in  the  wave  they  play. 
For,  oh,  these  are  shadows  only — 

Shadows  that  mock  and  flee, 
Now,  in  this  world  so  lonely — 

Of  all  that  was  bright  for  me  L 


FANCIES.  247 


FANCIES. 

I. 

SO  loud  in  the  stillness  your  voice  will  reaoimd, 
"§0"  bright  in  the  loneness  your  smile  plays  around  ! 
But  over  that  life-dream  what  shadow  is  there  V 
What  echo  of  sadness  my  heart  cannot  bear  ? 

II. 

My  loved  one  is  distant,  so  well  do  I  know, 
That  voice  and  that  smile  were  my  own  long  ago  ; 
And  mine  they  are  still,  in  the  day  or  the  night, 
More  hallowed  and  precious  for  seeming  less  bright. 

III. 
As  faint  "  bells  of  Heaven  "  that  will  break  on  the  ear, 
As  dim  streaks  of  sunshine  that  soothing  appear, 
Those  fancies  will  haunt  me  wherever  I  go, 
To  sweeten  a  life  full  of  darkness  and  woe  ! 


A     WORD     FOR     YOU. 


i    THROB  of  my  heart  when  I  hear  your  name, 
/Y  A  rush  to  my  cheek  of  the  .swift  blood's  flame, 
S.  silent  trance  when  you  near  me  stay, 
A  chill  as  of  Death  when  you  turn  away  ! 

"• 

A  gentle  hope  that  will  sometimes  gleam 
Like  the  magic  light  of  a  happy  dream, 
A  dreary  fear  that  \\\\\  often  weigh 
As  the  shadows  close  round  the  parting  day. 


248  SUN  AND    SHADE. 


III. 


The  stars  of  night  or  the  bhize  of  noon, 
The  winter's  chill  or  the  glow  of  June, 
All  joy  or  sorrow,  or  hope  or  fear, 
Still  find  one  thought  that  is  tme  and  dear  ! 


IV. 


Oh,  the  bird  will  fly  to  the  greenwood  tree. 
And  the  river  bounds  to  the  longing  sea. 
And  the  child  will  cling  to  its  mother's  knee, 
But  I  have  no  home  or  no  hope  but  thee  ! 


SUN      AND      SHADE, 


I. 


rpKANQUIL  and  bright  as  the  summer's  stream 
J^   When  lit  by  the  noonday's  golden  beam. 
Hushed  as  the  flowers  at  evening's  close, 
Drooping  low  in  their  soft  repose. 


II. 


Hopeful  as  saint  at  the  Virgin's  shrine, 
Ijooking  up  for  her  smile  divine  ; 
Fearless  as  those  to  Freedom  true — 
So  is  my  heart  when  it  beats  near  you  I 


m. 


Helpless  and  cold  as  the  bird  in  the  nest, 
Unsheltered,  unwarmed  by  its  mother's  breast ; 
Trembling  as  one  in  a  dream  of  woe. 
Wearily  wandering  to  and  fro. 


THE  EVemNG    STAR.  249 

IV. 

Wretched  and  stricken  us  those  who  die 
lu  a  stranger's  home  'neath  a  foreign  sky — 
Knowing  nor  love,  nor  life,  nor  day — 
Thus  am  I  when  you  turn  away. 


There's  many  u  joy  and  many  a  woe 
For  those  who  walk  on  this  earth  below  ; 
But  there's  never  a  sorrow  or  joy  for  me 
Save  those  alone  which  may  spring  from  thee  ! 


THE     l.VKNING     STAR. 


THE  evening  star  watched  by  the  moon, 
In  a  sweet  trance  of  sad  devotion  ; 
Still  fond  and  faithful,  all  alone, 
.   Within  the  heaven's  wide  ocean — 
Alone,  untiring  in  her  love, 

She  sat,  while  dews  were  round  her  weeping, 
'Mid  all  the  heavenly  sentinels, 
The  onlj'  one  unsleeping. 

II. 

Thus  I  will  be,  dear  love,  to  thee. 

When  night  and  loneliness  enfold  thee  ; 
Still  whispering,  low  and  fervently. 

What  in  bright  days  1  told  thee. 
Still  gazing  from  my  heart  of  hearts 

Ou  that  loved  face  divinely  beaming, 
'Mid  world  and  worldlings,  all  alone. 

Wrapped  in  ray  golden  dreaming  ! 


1 1- 


S50  LOST  I     mSTI 


LO.'^T   !      I,  OS  r  ! 


ALL  the  summer  and  the  bloom- 
Lost !    lost! 
All  the  verdnre  and  ]ieifume — 

Lost!   lost! 
Dead  leaves  fall  from  off  the  tree. 
Hopes  are  withered  so  for  me, 
Green  and  glad  no  more  to  be — 
Lost  !  lost ! 


II. 

All  the  glory  of  the  noon — 

Lost!   lost! 
All  the  love-light  of  the  moon — 

Lost !   lost ! 
Something  from  the  night  and  day. 
Spirit-like,  has  fled  away  ; 
Life  is  still  and  cold  and  grey — 

Lost !  lost ! 


III.  - 

Thoughts  that  soared  with  eagle  flight- 
Lost !  lost! 

Dreams  that  shone  with  stan-y  light- 
Lost  !  lost ! 

Now  my  heart  is  haunted  ground, 

Shades  and  echoes  hover  round  ; 

t^ad  and  deep  the  whispered  sound — 

Lost !   lost  I 


THK   I'AflT  Ml 


THE     PAST, 


THOU  goest,  aud  with  thee 
Each  thought  of  my  years, 
Tliia  heart's  deepest  treasures, 

Its  joys  and  its  tears  ! 
Each  flower  of  life's  garhind, 
Each  wave  of  life's  stream. 
All  the  glory  and  light 
Of  my  beautiful  dream. 


II. 

How  many  and  strong 

Are  the  links  that  have  bound 
Our  beings  together, 

But  now  I  have  found  ; 
I  feel  them  thus  quiv'ring 

'Neath  son-ow  and  fate, 
But  naught  can  dissever — 

Alas,  'tis  too  late  ! 


III. 

'Tis  sadness  to  love  thee, 

But  woe  to  resign — 
Though  wild  'twere  to  think 

Thou  couldst  ever  be  mine  ; 
But,  oh,  in  our  meeting 

Delusion  would  stay. 
And  the  rude  shock  of  parting 

Now  rends  it  away. 


aea     .  dead  leaves. 


rv. 


Our  love  was  the  purer 

For  standiug  alone, 
With  no  stay  on  the  cold  earth, 

No  light  but  its  own. 
Alone  it  hath  perished, 

Untended,  uncared, 
And  still  it  is  blooming 

Through  all  it  hath  dared  !  - 


DEAD      LEAVES. 

I. 

DEAD  leaves  arc  sadly  falling 
Down  from  the  tree  of  life  ; 
With  every  blast  they  drop  so  fast, 

And  lie  all  rank  and  rife. 
Upon  the  ground  I  see  them, 
Yellow  and  pale  and  cold — 
In  eveiy  one,  some  hope  is  gone. 
Dead  in  the  wintry  mould. 


Some  flutter  faint  and  slowly, 

On  through  the  desert  air, 
With  a  mournful  gleam  and  a  lingering  di-eam 

Of  summer  days  that  were  ; 
And  some  with  j^arting  fondness, 

Quiver  uprm  the  bough, 
ADd  seems  as  though  despair  and  woe 

Their  only  life  were  now  ! 


TUB   ONE  SORROW  253 


THE      ONE      SORROW 


1  LOVED  thee,  I  lost  thee, 
No  more  do  I  know — 
I  feel  it,  I  hear  it, 

"Wherever  I  go. 
There's  no  vision  befort  me, 

No  voice  iu  mine  ear, 
But  the  blessing  I  dreamed  of, 
The  curse  that  I  bear  ! 


II. 

I  loved  thee,  I  lost*  thee. 

Then,  what  can  remain  ? 
A  life  that  is  blasted 

By  madness  and  pain  ; 
The  burning,  the  longing, 

That  never  can  rest, 
The  dread  of  the  future, 

The  woe  of  the  past ! 


in. 

I  have  loved  thee  iu  wrong — 

Ah  !   no  wrong  could  there  be 
So  dark  or  so  wild 

But  I'd  brave  it  for  thee. 
No  !    Wrong  could  not  part  us, 

Nor  sonow,  nor  shame  ; 
'Twas  Fate,  and  Fate  only, 

Between  us  that  came  ! 


164  OW,   COMK    TO    MK. 


IV. 


I'd  care  not,  with  thee, 

What  niisfortnneR  could  fall 
The  saddest,  the  direst. 

Oh,  what  were  they  all  ? 
One  sorrow  alone 

Has  this  heart  to  its  core  : 
To  love  thee,  to  lose  thee, 

To  see  thee  no  more ! 


OH.      COME      TO      ME, 


OH,  come  to  met  (tsthore  machree  '. 
I  love  yoTi  more  than  my  heart  can  tell  ; 
I've  not  a  thought  in  the  night  or  day 

But  to  prove  to  you  how  well. 
The  greenest  green  of  the  summer  trees, 

The  sweetest  strain  of  the  wild  bird's  song, 
The  loveliest  sunbeiuii  that  lights  the  sky. 
Were  welcome  small  for  the  one  whom  I 
Have  worshipped  and  wept  so  long. 

II. 

There's  none  I  kncjw  on  earth  below 

Could  treasure  and  doat  on  my  love  like  me  , 
The  smiles  and  tears  of  my  inmost  soul 

Flow  on  in  a  stream  to  thee. 
There's  hardly  space  in  my  heart's  deep  cell 

To  hold  the  wealth  that  on  thee  I'd  pour ; 
And  I  sit  entranced  all  the  long,  lone  hours. 
While  a  heaving  joy  swells  through  tearful  showers, 

In  my  fondness  for  you,  asthore  I 


THE  GOLDBN.HAIRRD.  "^66 


III. 


Then,  corar-  to  me,  ncushla  nuichrte! 

You're  left  by  the  world  to  ixie  alone, 
And  wild  and  bright  is  the  proiid  delight 

I  feel  in  my  darling  one. 
I  know  not  how  I  can  greet  you  best, 

I  know  not  how  I  can  most  adore; 
But  in  winged  joy  still  I  rove  along, 
With  a  dancing  step  and  a  voice  of  song, 

Waiting  for  you,  asthore  ! 


THE      G  O  L  D  E  N  -  H  A  I  R  E  D  . 

[FKOM  THE    mlBH]. 
I. 

MY  golden-haired,  my  star  of  pride  ! 
Come  to  thine  own,  thy  longing  bride  ; 
Come  to  this  heait  that's  beating,  breaking. 
Come  to  those  eyes  for  ever  waking  ; 
Come  !  oh,  come  !  this  bursting  sigh 
Tells  how  I  mourn,  I  faint,  I  die  ! 

II. 

The  heavens,  the -earth,  the  night,  the  day 
Ai-ound  me  float  and  fade  away, 
And  one  dark  shade  is  ever  falling, 
And  one  low  voice  is  ever  calling. 
Come  !    oh,  come  !   I  faint,  I  die ! 
Dark  are  the  hours  that  pass  me  by. 


256  KySR,  EVER 


III. 


Didst  thou  but  know  the  bitter  woe 
That  hath  no  hope  or  rest  below — 
The  tempest  rash,  the  Btilluess  dnary, 
Within  this  soul  so  sad  aud  weary  : 
Come  !  oh,  come  !   Would  /  might  fly 
Upon  thy  breast  to  weep  and  die  ! 

rv. 

There's  not  a  sunbeam  in  the  skies 

But  speaks  of  sorrow  to  mine  eyes  ; 

The  summer  breezes,  softly  sighing, 

But  breathe  of  sweet  dreams  dead  or  dying. 

Woe  !   woe  is  me  !   I  faint,  I  die — 

No  rest,  no  hope  but  there  on  high  ! 


EVER.       K  V  K  R 


BY  the  sunlight,  by  the  moonlight,  Vjy  the  starlight,   all  the 
same  ; 
In  the  paleness  of  the  \viuter  or  the  summer's  crimson  flame. 
In  the  music  of  the  sweet  wind,  or  its  wailing,  sad  and  low. 
Still  I  gaze  and  still  I  listen,  though  none  else  may  dream  or 
know. 

II. 

In  the  song-voice,  in  the  speech-voice,  there  is  but  one  far-off 

tone, 
In  the  silence  of  my  tosom,  but  one  burning  throb  alone  ; 
But  one  form  of  shade  or  brightness  in  the  mazes  of  my  sleep, 
One  pearl  of  snowy  whiteness  in  my  memoiy's  heaving  deep  ! 


A   PLJCDGE.  267 

III. 
How  I  glory,  how  I  sorrow,  how  I  love  with  deathless  love, 
How  I  weep  before  the  chilling  skies  aud  moan  to  heaven  above  ! 
I  am  higher,  I  am  prouder  than  if  stars  were  round  my  head  ! 
I  am  drooping,  I  am  lonely  as  a  mourner  o'er  the  dead ! 

IV.! 

Yet  I  part  not  from  my  sorrow,  my  glory  or  my  gloom, 
For  the  smiling  of  the  May-time,  its  sunshine  or  its  bloom. 
From  <he  throb  of  burning  quickness  that  is  answered  far  away, 
Over  mountains,  over  waters,  in  the  night  or  in  the  day  ! 


A      PLEDGE. 

I. 
"Y  love  it  is  a  draught  divine, 
ITJL  Pure  and  bright  as  purple  wine  ; 
Foaming,  sparkling,  bubbling  up. 
From  my  heart's  red,  ruby  cup, 
And  I  pour  it,  \vild  and  free. 
Every  day  and  hour  for  thee. 

u. 

See,  from  out  mine  eye  it  flows, 
Here  upon  my  cheek  it  glows  ; 
From  my  heart,  hke  flowers  in  bloom, 
Floats  its  soft  and  rich  perfume  ; 
And  I  ijour  it,  wild  and  free. 
Every  day  and  hour  for  thee  ! 

III. 
Yes,  I  pledge  thee,  dailing  mine  ! 
This  sweet  draught  of  love  divine, 
Pare  as  crystal  of  the  moon, 
Burning  as  the  tomd  noon  ; 
And  I  pour  it,  wild  and  free. 
From  mv  heart  for  thee— for  thee  ! 


1168  NOW   AND    THEN. 


NOW      AND      THEN 


THE  bird  of  the  mimmer  was  winging 
Its  way  through  the  cloudless  sky  ; 
The  bird  of  the  Kuramer  wtis  singing 
When  lattt  at  your  side  was  I. 


II. 


The  flow'r  of  the  bower  was  blowing, 
The  green  of  the  tree  was  fair  ; 

And  the  tints  of  the  sky  were  glowing, 
"While  we  stood  in  gladness  there. 


HI. 


The  wind  of  the  winter  is  wailing 
Again  for  that  happy  day  ; 

The  wind  of  the  winter  is  wailing, 
Now,  now,  yon  are  far  away. 


IV. 


No  flow'r  in  the  bower  is  blowing, 
No  bird  is  upon  the  bough  ; 

And  no  tints  in  the  sky  are  glowing. 
For  we  are  asundfir  now  ! 


THE   RBBD   AND    THE  RIVER.  «» 


THE     R  K  K  D     AND     THE      RIVER 


rPHOU  ;ut  winding  on  thy  way 
Y     Like  the  bright  and  laughing  river, 
While  above  the  night  and  day, 

A  trembling  reed,  I  moan  and  Hhiver— 
There,  with  many  a  plaintive  quiver, 
All  alone  !  all  alone  ! 
I  call  in  many  a  plaintive  tone, 
Bending  o'er  the  river. 


With  a  lightaome  voice  of  song 

Far  away  the  wave  is  flying. 
Dancing  in  its  mirth  along, 

While  the  lonely  reed  is  sighing, 

In  the  dreary  darkness  lying — 
All  alone  !   all  alone  ! 
Breathing  many  a  plaintive  moan, 

Sad  and  pale  and  dying. 

III. 

Ah,  this  weary  watch  of  pain  ! 

In  its  mournful  love  unsleeping— 
Faintly  comes  that  voice  again, 

Through  the  lonely  midnight  creeping. 

With  a  sound  of  hushed  weeping — 
"All  alone  !   all  alone  !" 
Calling  low  with  many  a  moan. 

That  cold  vigil  keeping  ! 


260  WITHOUT   TBKK. 


WITHOUT     THEE 


1>HE  stream  without  the  summer  sun, 
The  tree  without  its  bloom, 
The  mournful  skj'  at  midnight  hour. 
Its  glories  wrapped  in  gloom  ; 


II. 


The  tuneful  lyre  that  silent  lies, 
The  tendril  fallen  away, 

Neglected — trailing  on  the  ground, 
Without  its  parent  stay  ; 


iir. 


The  nest  within  the  leafy  bough 
From  which  the  bird  has  fled, 

The  vacant  chair  that  lately  held 
The  unfOrgotten  dead — 


IV. 


So  dark,  so  cold,  .so  desolate 
This  heart  must  ever  be, 

So  worthless,  mournful  and  mute, 
When  I  am  far  from  thee. 


A  LONGING.  2«I 


A     LONGING 


I. 


i  )OME  back  to  me,  dearest  !  I  feel,  without  you, 

\j  As  the  tree  -without  gi-eenness,  the  sky  without  blue, 

A  biird  with  a  broken  wing  chilled  by  the  blast, 

A  lyre  which  the  stonn-voice  hath  rent  as  it  passed. 


n. 


Most  lonely  and  stricken  of  all  on  the  earth, 
Alone  in  my  sorrow,  'mid  lightness  and  mirth  ; 
No  sunlight,  no  moonlight,  no  starlight  for  me, 
Since  the  dark,  dreary  hour  I  was  parted  from  thee  ! 


III. 


The  spell  passed  from  music  and  left  it  a  wail, 
The  glow  of  the  noonday  turned  heavy  and  pale  ; 
The  smile  of  kind  faces  grew  sickly  and  cold, 
Their  soft  words  were  chill  as  the  blast  on  the  wold. 


IV. 


There's  laughter  and  pleasure— but  you  are  not  by, 
I  see  but  dim  shadows — I  hear  but  a  sigh. 
Oh,  sad  are  the  hours  and  the  scenes  I  have  known, 
Through  all  the  long  years  I  have  wandered  alone  ! 


Your  voice  was  an  angel's  to  soothe  and  to  cheer  : 

I'd  list  it  for  ever,  nor^weary  to  hear  ; 

As  soft  as  the  whisper  of  ripe  waving  corn, 

As  glad  to  my  heart  as  the  lark's  to  the  morn. 


26i  THE   PATH  ACROSS    THE  SEA. 


VI. 


My  dove  ! — this  fond  heart  was  your  ark  aud  your  home, 
Oh,  come  with  the  green-waving  bough  to  me — come  ! 
Sweet  is  the  calm  that  will  reign  in  my  breast 
When  you  are  beside  me,  0  truest  and  best ! 


THE     PATH     ACROSS     THE     SEA. 


I. 


I  y  love,  my  hope,  my  longing, 

_)J[     Make  a  path  across  the  sea  : 

I  can  reach  thee,  I  can  clasp  thee, 

Although  parted  we  may  be. 
Naught  can  come  between  us,  dearest — 
N'siUght  can  hold  thee  back  from  me  ! 


II. 

The  airy  Hpace  around  me 

Is  but  a  canvas  fair, 
On  which  thy  face  is  painted 

In  colors  soft  and  rare — 
Thiough  sunlight,  gold  and  a/nre, 

I  see  thee  everywhere  ! 

HI. 

How  oft  my  feet  have  trodden 
That  pathway  o'er  the  sea, 

Which  from  out  my  heart  I  builded 
To  bear  me  home  tO'thee  — 

Which  I  builded  with  my  longing 
.\nd  my  Ldvc;  and  Faith  to  thee  ! 


rHK    HOOUKRANG.  2C8 


THE      BOOMERANG.* 


AN    AtTRTRAIilAN    I.OVK    BONO. 


I. 


BY  Fate's  strou^j;  baud  I  am  hurled  away 
To  the  dihtauce,  blue  and  dim, 
From  the  love  and  light  of  thy  face  to-day 

To  the  far  horizon's  lim. 
I  go,  I  go,  since  it  must  be  so— 

( 'Twas  thus  he  softly  sang) — 
I  go,  my  dear,  but,  oh,  never  fear, 

I'll  come  back  like  the  boomerang  ! 
Come  back  to  you,  still  as  sure  and  true — 

As  true  as  the  boomerang  ! 


u. 

I  go  from  the  soft,  bright  southern  skies, 

I  go  from  the  summer  day 
That  faints  in  sweet,  voluptuous  sighs. 

In  perfume  and  light  away  ; 
I  go,  I  go,  to  the  ice  and  snow, 

Where  the  cruel  north  wnuds  clang  ; 
But  I'll  come  back,  on  the  homeward  track — 

Come  back  like  the  boomerang  ! 
Yes,  seek  your  feet,  as  tme  and  fleet — 

As  true  as  the  boomerang  ! 

*  The  boomerang  is  an  Australian  aboriginal  weapon  ;  when  flung  by  » 
skilful  hand,  it  is  sure  to  return  to  the  very  spot  from  whence  it  was  sent 


2«4  .  HEART   THOUGHTS. 


III. 


I  listed  the  Vjell-bird  piping  clear 

In  the  heart  of  the  fragrant  shade, 
Where  you  and  I,  in  those  days  so  dear, 

Together  have  fondly  strayed. 
"  Oh,  my  love  and  dear  !"  thus,  so  sweet  and  clear. 

His  notes  through  the  forest  rang, 
"  Though  you  part  to-day,  yet  he'll  cleave  his  way, 

Back,  back  like  the  boomerang  ! 
Yes,  he'll  come  to  you,  as  sure  and  time — 

As  true  as  the  boomerang  !" 


HEART      THOUGHTS 


I. 


THOUGH  my  heart  brims  with  love  as  the  blossom  with  dew. 
Yet  I  seek  in  its  depths  still  more  fondness  for  you  ; 
Still  longing,  still  longing  to  love  and  adore, 
More  wildly  than  mortal  e'er  dreamed  of  before  ! 


II. 


One  thought  and  one  throb,  in  the  day  or  the  night, 
One  hot-fevered  hope,  far  too  keen  for  delight, 
One  image  to  haunt  me — one  voice  to  enthrall- 
So  slowly,  so  sadly  the  lonely  hours  fall  ! 


TTI. 


I  love  you,  I  love  you  !  but  never  can  tell. 
By  aught  I  could  do,  how  intensely  and  well. 
To  live  for  you,  die  for  you,  never  can  prove 
The  fervor,  the  madnesH,  the  strength  of  that  love  ! 


REMEMBRANCK.  265 


R  E  M  E  M  B  R  A  N  C  E . 


now  my  heart  aches  for  you  ! 
How  my  heart  breaks  for  you, 
All  the  day,  all  the  night,  all  the  year  through  ! 
Ah  !   though  I'd  sigh  for  you, 
Ev'n  till  I  die  for  you, 
Never  a  meeting  may  come  for  us  two. 

II. 

How  my  heart  craves  for  you  ! 

How  my  heart  raves  for  you  ! 

Haunted  by  thoughts  that  for  ever  will  cling. 

Ah  !  but  no  gleam  of  you, 

Only  this  dream  of  yon. 
Daylight,  or  mieinight,  or  twilight  will  bring  ! 

in. 

Ah  !   for  the  vanished  years 
Seen  through  my  blinding  tears, 
Down  the  black  river  of  Ufe  as  I  go — 

Drifting  all  wearily, 

Onward  so  di-earily. 
While  the  rain  falls  and  the  wild  tempests  blow. 

IV. 

Burning  with  love  for  you. 

Looking  above  for  you, 

Filled  with  this  longing  and  sorrow  and  pain  ! 

Ah  !  though  I'd  sigh  for  you, 

Ev'n  till  I  die  for  you, 
Never  on  earth  shall  we  two  meet  again  ! 

12 


266  "A    ROGUE  IX  HIS  COAT." 

"A     ROGUE     IN     HIS     COAT." 

Air—''l  AM  THK  Boy  roK  Bewitching  them  " 

I. 

THESE  girls  !   sure  you  don't  care  a  straw  for  them  ; 
How  can  you  help  if  they  teaze  you  ? 
You've  not  the  taste  of  a  yra  for  them— 
Not  one  amongst  them  would  please  you. 

II. 

Oh,  but  I'm  not  all  so  green,  indeed  ! 

Though  you  were  ten  times  as  wily  ; 
With  my  own  eyes  I  have  seen,  indeed, 

All  you  were  doing  so  slily. 

III. 

Say,  if  you  like,  you're  not  heeding  'em, 

Sorra  one  bit  I  believe  you  ! 
Out  of  their  minds  you  are  leading  'em  — 

With  your  deluding,  you  thief  you  ! 

IT. 

Looking  as  mild  as  a  sucking-dove, 

Still  you  can  throw  round  those  glances, 

As  if  us  all  you  wore  mocking  of. 
While  you  were  making  advances. 


Why  are  you  singing  such  songs  to  them  ? 

Why  are  you  talking  so  neatly  ? 
Spoiling  what  sense  that  belongs  to  them— 

Creatures  that  listen  so  sweetly. 


A   ROGUE  ny  HIS    COAT."  267 


VI. 


AVhy  do  you  take  such  dead  aim  at  them, 

Slily  beneath  the  dark  cover 
Of  your  bright  eyes,  with  such  flame  in  them  ? 

Shooting  the  innocent  plover  ! 


vn. 


Oh,  you  coi;ld  wheedle  and  coax  them  all. 
Were  there  ten  dozen  and  over  ; 

Cleverly,  sure,  you  can  hoax  them  all — 
Each  one  believes  you  her  lover  ! 


VIII. 


All  the  hair-locks  I  have  caught  with  you — 

Auburn,  raven  and  yeUow — 
Round  half  the  globe  you  have  brought  with  you. 

Nasty,  deluding  old  fellow  ! 


rx. 

Never  a  chain  they  have  spun  for  you — 
Catch  the  wild  horse  with  a  halter  ! 

'Deed  it  has  only  made  fun  for  you, 
Just  but  to  think  of  the  altar. 


Oh,  you're  the  boy  for  bewitching  them  ! 

Setting  them  mad,  fair  and  squarely, 
With  all  the  nonsense  you're  teaching  them, 

Rogue  that  you  are,  late  and  early  ! 


268  AS   THE    WILD    RIRD. 

AS     THE     W^ILD      BIRD 

^ir— "Tib  a  Pitt  I  don't  See  my  Lovb." 

I. 

AS  the  wild  bird  sings  to  the  morn, 
Oh,  thus  I'll  sing  to  you — 
As  the  wild  bird  siugs  to  the  morn, 

Up  from  the  shining  dew. 
Nearer — nearer,  still 

To  Heaven  and  joy  above, 
Nearer— dreamingly,  gleamingly, 
Soaring  in  song  and  love  ! 

II. 

Oh,  to  tell  all  my  joy  to  you, 

As  song  alone  can  tell, 
All  my  love,  so  fond  and  true, 

In  one  exulting  swell  ! 
Glorious  were  my  strain 

The  night  and  morning  long — 
Glorious — bounding  on,  sounding  on, 

Thus  were  my  heart's  wild  song  ! 


YOURSELF. 

[BU8TI0  BONO.] 
I. 

HPIS  yourself  !    'tis  yourself  !  sure  that's  all  I  know  of  you  ; 
Y    Little  I  mind  all  the  faults  they  can  show  of  you  ; 
Seen  in  you. 
Great  or  few, 
They're  of  Love's  own  dear  hue. 
For  you  sire  yourself,  and  no  more  will  I  know  of  you  ! 


YOURSELF.  269 

II. 
You're  my  love,  you're  \ay  love  :    can  they  make  you  be  less  to 

me  ? 
Change  there  is  not  in  your  teiider  caress  to  me. 
While  I  know 
This  is  so, 
Welcome  be  joy  or  woe  : 
You're  my  love,  and  they  never  can  make  you  Vje  less  to  me  I 

III. 

Could  they  think,  could  they  think  that  their  art  could  estrange 

me,  now  ? 
Deeper  my  fondness,  and  harder  to  change  me,  now — 
Everyone 
Left  you  lone, 
But  I  am  still  your  own. 
Deeper  my  fondness,  and  harder  to  change  me  now  ! 


12=^ 


I 


.hES 


INDEX. 


•'«5J&g3' 


I  N  33  E  X  . 


National  and  Miscellaneous  Poems. 


Page. 

.^orpitas 139 

Alice ,.  U2 

Awaking 96 

A  Coaine 51 

A  Dream  of  the  Arctic  Seas 157 

A  Dream  of  a  Dream 99 

A  Dublin  Romance 207 

An  Erin 46 

A  Farewell 172 

An  Adjuration 143 

An  Old  Story 112 

A  Presence 180 

A  Scone  for  Ireland 65 

A  Welcome 76 

A  Teaming  Voice 15C 

Biddy 89 

Bridget  Cruise  to  Ciirolan 73 

Chant  to  Our  Beloved  Dead 9 

Chant  of  the  Irish  Minstrel 31 

Chartist  Address 19 

Christmas  Carol 160 

Courage 68 

Dare  It 36 

Death 131 

Death  iu  Life 188 

De  Profundis 177 

Down,  Britannia 17 

Edom 136 

Epitaph  on  a  Sinner 175 

For  Ireland  All . .    57 

Glenmaloe 84 

Glimpses 176 

Qod  Save  the  People 27 


Page. 

Houu'  Rest 149 

Uymu  for  the  Month  of  May. .. .  203 
Hymn  of  the  Sword 20 

Idle  Words 104 

"  Implora  Pace  " 132 

In  the  West 86 

Irish  AutumnEve 95 

King  Labhradh's  Ears 119 

••L.L." 116 

Lament  for  Thomas  Davis 10 

Lines  found  Written  on  the  Wall 

of  a  Prison  Cell 151 

Looking  In 161 

Lough-a-Seola 80 

Loyalty 1* 

Margaret  Fuller  OssoU 183 

Mater  Redcmptoris 198 

Memory 144 

Murmurs 87 

Mysteries 133 

My  Nial  Bawn .   93 

National  March 25 

Native  Thoughts 109 

Near  Me 167 

Nevermore 189 

No  More 110 

O'Brien 62 

O'Donnell  of  Tipperary 45 

On  the  Height 169 

On  the  Sea 199 

One  Joy 173 

One  Thought 196 

Our  Course 15 


n* 


UiDBS. 


Our  Memories 59 

Onr  Olden  Tongue 55 

Our  True  Men 39 

Parting  Words 114 

Pictures  in  the  Clouds 191 

ProgrcBS 43 

Princess  Blanaid 81 

Psyche's  Dream 16G 

Queensland ■ 170 

Rosanna 98 

Shadows 130 

Silken  Thomas 31 

Sir  Cahir  O'Dohcrty 63 

Solitude 153 

Sonnets 184 

Storm  in  the  Bush 186 

Stripes  and  Stars  123 

Tears  103 

The  Ard-Bigh's  Bride 52 

The  Age's  Teachers 117 

The  Curse  49 

The  Dream  of  Eden 147 

The  Fallen  Queen 23 

The  Felon 41 

The  Gathering 26 

The  Guardian  Angel 164 

The  Holy  Well 82 

The  Jewel  Seeker 187 

The  Laureate 193 

The  Legend  of  Poul-na-Dhoul.. .  106 

The  Leprechaun 77 

The  Living  and  the  Dead 170 

The  Lords  of  the  Soil 22 

The  Lost  May 200 

The  IxjHt  Summer 104 


The  Lover  King 162 

The  Maid  of  Lough  Ina 73 

The  Magic  Glass 179 

The  Murderer 37 

The  New  Time ...  101 

The.Meeting  of  the  Saints 204 

The  Men  in  Jail  for  Ireland 70 

The  Oath  of  Allegiance 33 

The  Outlaw 69 

The  Patriot  Mother 12 

The  People's  Chief 48 

The  Prussians  before  Paris 134 

The  Rebel's  Sermon 28 

The  Euined  Home ■ 64 

The  Ruined  Lyre 174 

The  Silent  Land 195 

The  Skylark  by  the  Shannon 94 

The  Sturm 146 

The  Two  Sculptors 124 

The  Voice  of  the  Kiver 115 

The  Unspoken ill 

The  Youth  and  His  Shadow 203 

•  Tipperary 78 

To  a  Spread  Eagle 203 

To  the  Magnates  of  Ireland 31 

To  the  Shannon 75 

To  Thomas  Francis  Meagher 15 

To  Maria  (a  Valentine) 150 

To  My  Patriot  Brothers 58 

Trinity  Well 01 

To  the  Wandering  Wind 154 

To  Willie 182 

Twilight 197 

Words 145 

Why  I  Sing 100 

Wrecks 175 


INDEX. 


376 


Translations. 


Homo  Song  (Chateaubriand) ....  222 

My  Mission  (Beranger) 215 

My  Republic  (Beranger) 217 

So  May  it  b  ■  (Beranger) 219 


Song  of  the  Cossack  (Bersnger)..  214 
The     Blind     Girl     (From     the 

Italian) 221 

The  Lady  Fly  (Hujjo) 218 


Songs. 


All  Alone 241 

A  Longing 2G1 

A  Pledge     2.57 

"  A  Kogue  in  his  Coat  " 206 

As  the  Wild  Bird 2i;S 

A  Word  to  You  247 

Chant    (The    O'Connell    Cente- 
nary)        225 

Dead  Leaves 252 

Ever!  Ever! 25G 

Fancies 247 

Heart  Thoughts 264 

Lost!   Lost! 2.50 

Marching  Song 227 

Now  and  Then 258 

Oh,  Come  to  Me 254 

Kemembrance 265 


Song  of  the  Irish  Peasant 229 

Star  Song 246 

Sun  and  Shade 248 

The  Bird  in  the  Storm 245 

The  Boomerang 263 

The  Evening  Star 249 

The  Golden  Haired 255 

The  Moaning  Harp 244 

The  One  Sorrow 253 

The  Past 251 

The  Path  across  the  Sea 262 

The  Peasant's  Farewell 242 

The  Reed  and  the  River 259 

The  Wind  and  the  Moon 244 

Without  Thee 260 

Yourself 268 


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